


Twist of Fate

by dizzyDG



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyDG/pseuds/dizzyDG
Summary: Robb Stark reluctantly rides to Bitterbridge to negotiate an alliance with Renly Baratheon. Whilst there, events conspire to change fates forever, and set the future of Westeros on a very different path.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> I must be mad... but here is another little story I have been writing while I was suffering from block with my other stories.
> 
> I thought I'd give it a go and publish it, hope people enjoy!
> 
> :)

 

* * *

Robb dismounted, glancing around suspiciously. He caught his mother’s eye and she offered him a thin smile. Her eyes were wary and she fidgeted with her hands as one of the stable boys took the reins of her horse from her. Robb looked away, towards the heart of Renly’s camp. He hadn’t wanted to come, it had been against every instinct to ride away from the majority of his army with only three hundred men. His lords had tried to insist he take more, but he had refused. He did not want to draw unnecessary attention, and he most certainly did not want to leave his army too depleted.

If he had had his own way then his mother would have conducted this negotiation alone. She had refused though. What she wanted was to go back to Winterfell, but he had needed her help with Renly. Despite his pleas, though, she had refused to go without him. _He will see it as an insult, you sending me in your place._ He had protested, but she had had more to say. _I went alone to Walder Frey. You were not happy with the price then, I would not have you displeased with me again, not when it is this important._

She’d had him then and he had agreed to go, grudgingly. His lords had been supportive, though they were all full of contradicting pieces of advice. He had left them in charge of his men and ridden ahead. His army were following, though he had commanded them to make camp out of sight of Renly’s army. Robb could not know how the negotiations would go, and Renly had five times his number. If anything went wrong, he could quite easily lose everything.

He handed his own horse’s reins to his squire, Olyvar, managing a grim smile for his new companion. Despite his distaste at the deal his mother had made with Walder Frey, he was pleased at least that he got along well with Olyvar. As for the rest…well, he would not have to think of that until the war was over. With luck, Renly could help him with that.

Before he could think of what to do next two men with stags emblazoned across the chest plates of their armour came towards him. Guards, he assumed. They did not look worried, nor hostile, and their blades remained sheathed as they came closer. Taking heart from that, Robb stepped towards them and offered a small, amiable smile.

“Lord Stark?” one of them enquired.

“Aye,” he confirmed. He knew he should have corrected them, he was king now, but he did not think it best to begin by squabbling over titles.

“His Grace is being entertained at a tourney, he would be honoured if you would join him,” the man continued. “However, he understands that you may wish to wash up and rest after such a long journey. A tent has been set aside for you, and there are places for your men.”

“That is most kind,” Robb responded. “If you would show me to the tourney, I would introduce myself.”

“As you wish, my lord,” he bowed shortly. “Please, this way.”

The pair of them turned in unison and marched back the way they had come. Robb exchanged a glance with his mother as she came to fall into step with him, and he noticed that she had a slightly amused look on her face.

“What?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she responded. “I was just surprised that you did not correct him, you have a new title now after all. The Greatjon would have been furious with his greeting.”

“And that is exactly why the Greatjon isn’t here,” he replied. “There is only one man here I want to hear name me ‘your Grace’, and it is not that man.”

“I wish I could tell you what kind of reception you will have,” she said seriously.

“So do I,” he sighed.

He said no more, and neither did his mother, as they approached the make shift tourney ground. It didn’t sit well with him that Renly was just sat here putting on tourneys while the kingdoms fell into war around him. He had one hundred thousand men. If Robb had been gifted that force himself, he would have used it by now.  

Still, he did not have time to brood over what he could do with so many men, he was being led round to the side of the tourney ground and the clashing of steel wrung in his ears. The two guards leading him there halted and he came to a stop between them, his mother waiting just a pace behind him. Robb’s eyes drew first to the two men fighting in the tourney space, noting the fine armour and quick footwork of the smaller knight.

He tore his eyes from the bout after a moment, searching for the youngest Baratheon. Renly wasn’t difficult to find, sat up on a raised platform with a crown atop his head. Even from a distance Robb could see it was well made and fitted. It suited the man who wore it well, Robb could tell that he was tall and well-built even though he was reclining easily on a throne. His beard was neatly cropped and his hair had been combed tidily.

Robb wondered how he would appear in contrast. Perhaps he ought to have taken up the offer of a wash and a rest. He was about to murmur as much to his mother when his eyes slid to the woman sat next to Renly. She was a beauty, and no mistake about it, soft brown curls tumbling enticingly down her shoulders, and big brown eyes. Her dress was made of fine silks and far lowlier cut than he had ever seen adorning a woman of the North. Robb cleared his throat and lifted his eyes from her exposed flesh, feeling a tinge of heat on his cheeks.

Almost in the same instant the girl was on her feet, her own cheeks flushed. The pinkness making her even more beguiling. Robb was enraptured as she practically bounced on the balls of her feet. She clapped her hands together, calling out encouragement for Highgarden. It occurred to him then who she must be – Margaery Tyrell, he should have known. Of course Renly would have taken a queen from a powerful family. It is what Robb himself should have done. His fist clenched slightly in bitterness – he would get a Frey girl and there was nothing to be done about it.

Still, he could not help but watch Margaery as she watched the bout. She was married to the man he hoped to make his ally, and he was betrothed elsewhere, but there was no harm in looking. He looked back to the fight as her excitement faded, seeing the smaller of the two men falling to the ground. The larger man pulled a dagger from a sheath, straddling the fallen man and putting it to his exposed throat.

“Yield! Yield!” the fallen knight conceded, and the larger stood up and offered a hand.

Robb noted the gilt roses on the defeated man’s armour, and his sullen stance as he removed his helm. He looked astonishingly like Margaery, and Robb could only assume he was beholding Loras Tyrell – famed Knight of the Flowers. Curiously he looked towards the man who had beaten him, seeing his helm still firmly in place.

“Well fought!” Renly was on his feet now, with a wide smile on his face. “Come forward, come; remove your helmet!”

The man did as he was bid, walking to the platform and kneeling before Renly and his queen before rising up to his feet and pulling the helm from his head. Robb did a double take then, and he was not the only one. Many murmured around him, and there were a few sniggers directed towards the scowling Loras Tyrell. Robb had to supress a slight smirk himself at the sour look on the handsome man’s face as it dawned on him and all those watching that he had just been defeated by a woman.

“Lady Brienne, you are even more fearsome than I heard tell,” Renly was all smiles. “You are our most worthy champion, now you must name your prize, and if it is within my power to give it then it is yours.”

Robb watched keenly along with everyone else, curious as to what this Lady Brienne would ask. She was silent for a moment, and the crowd all seemed to wait with baited breath. She went down on one knee before Renly again in the next instant, raising her head to look up at him.

“I only ask, your Grace, that you allow me the honour of protecting and serving you at all times,” she spoke clearly. “Would you honour me with a place in your Kingsguard?”

Robb’s eyes flickered to Loras Tyrell at the request, a look of annoyance on the young knight’s face as he seemed to shake his head slightly from side to side. He moved his gaze back to Renly, seeing the King bite his lip for a moment before he clapped his hands loudly together.

“Done!” he declared happily. The crowd clapped his declaration, and Robb joined in politely.

Renly’s eyes then slid towards Robb for the first time. He at first seemed to frown slightly in confusion before his gaze slipped to the side and clearly landed on Robb’s mother. Recognition replaced confusion then, and Renly held his arm out to beckon them forwards. The same two guards flanked them as they approached the platform. Robb tried to keep his gaze away from Margaery but he couldn’t help a sly glance. She was even more beautiful up close, and he wondered if it was wishful thinking that had him seeing a curious look in her eyes as she looked back at him.

“Presenting Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, and Lady Catelyn Stark, of Winterfell,” one of the guards announced clearly.

“Lord Stark,” Renly’s smile was wide as he appraised Robb for a moment. “And Lady Catelyn,” he bowed his head towards his mother. “So wonderful to see you again after so many years. May I present my queen, Margaery, of House Tyrell.”

So Robb had guessed rightly there, at least.

“A pleasure,” his mother bowed her head in return.

“You are most welcome here,” Margaery spoke warmly. “Both of you,” she added, her eyes meeting Robb’s for a moment. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he and his mother both spoke in unison.

“I promise you here, now,” Renly spoke again, “that I will get justice for Ned. I will deliver Joffrey’s head to you, my lady, you can be assured of that.”

“There was me promising my mother that same thing,” Robb said, raising one brow.

Renly fixed him with a look for a long moment, and Robb’s heart hammered hard against his ribs. He relaxed though as Renly began to laugh heartily. “Quite right, quite right,” Renly rose up from his throne and reached his hand out towards his wife. Margaery placed her hand in his and he turned and drew it up to his lips for a moment. “If you will excuse me, my queen,” he continued. “Young Stark and I have much to discuss. Perhaps you could show Lady Catelyn to her tent?”

“Of course, my love,” Margaery returned with a smile, rising to her feet.

“I trust you will be most comfortable, my lady,” Renly nodded to Robb’s mother. “Would you walk with me, Robb?”

“Certainly,” Robb returned. He was unsure how to address him, so he said no more, merely falling into step with him as he came down from the platform and gestured Robb to accompany him.

“I am sorry, about your father,” Renly said as they walked away from the crowds. “He was probably the least treacherous man I knew. I warned him about Cersei and Joffrey, I offered him men to help take them into custody when Robert was dying but…”

“He wouldn’t have thought it honourable,” Robb could see it all too well. Honour had killed his father.

“Yes,” Renly agreed. “I am sorry I left him at the Capital, but there was no more I could do for him. If I had not fled when I did then I would not be here now. I would be languishing in the cells, or more likely, have met the same cruel fate as your father.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened to my father, if I did, I would not be here,” Robb said.

“And why are you here, may I ask?” Renly returned.

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Robb answered him, and Renly halted.

“You want an alliance, and I’m your best option,” Renly said astutely. “Who can blame you? I have one hundred thousand men behind me, and the might and wealth of Highgarden.”

“Exactly, who could blame me?” Robb shrugged, and Renly grinned.

“I like you already,” he chuckled. “And I liked your father, very much. He was a good friend to me, and he did his best to be a good and just Hand – Robert didn’t make it easy for him, but he did what he could. I truly do want to avenge his death, though, not as much as you of course.”

“I want my sisters back, and I want my father buried with dignity,” Robb said.

“And you want the North,” Renly said, meeting his eyes.

“My lords named me King in the North, and I accepted the title,” Robb said calmly.

“And the Riverlands have declared you their king too, haven’t they?” Renly raised a brow. “You are quickly collecting Kingdoms, Stark. I will have nothing left to fight for at this rate.”

“I won’t give up the North,” Robb said quietly, but defiantly.

“But we can put the Riverlands back on the table?” Renly asked, meeting his eyes.

“When this is over with, yes,” Robb said. The River Lords had only followed him because of his uncle Edmure, and he knew Edmure would happily bend the knee to Renly if Robb assured him it was the right thing to do. What he needed was time to see if it was the right thing.

“And what do I get in return?” Renly asked.

“You have the Stormlands and the Reach behind you already. I can give you the North and the Riverlands. Dorne has no love for the Lannisters, they will keep out of this. The Vale will not march, believe me, my mother has already tried to persuade Lady Arryn. In short, we combined can easily best the Lannisters,” Robb concluded.

“And my brother?” Renly raised a brow.

“You cannot deny he has the better claim,” Robb said honestly.

“You cannot deny my numbers will crush him,” Renly said, and Robb smiled wryly.

“I suppose not,” Robb conceded.

“You have heard what he’s done, haven’t you? On Dragonstone?” Renly asked seriously.

“My attentions have been rather focused elsewhere,” Robb answered.

“Of course,” Renly nodded. “But you ought to know this, by the Gods, all the Seven Kingdoms ought to know this. Stannis cannot take the throne – better claim or not – not when he would destroy the Gods themselves.”

“What are you talking about?” Robb asked, a frown creasing his brow now.

“In here,” Renly gestured towards the tent they had come to a stop beside. Robb entered ahead of him at his insistence, assuming it to be Renly’s own tent given how finely it was decorated. “Wine?” Renly asked from behind him, and Robb turned.

“Aye, thank you,” he replied.

Renly poured them both a cup and handed Robb his before raising his own. “To friendship,” he said, and Robb knocked his cup against Renly’s, repeating the sentiment before taking a long sip. He was beginning to feel the ride here now, but he sensed Renly wanted to tell him something important, and he also sensed that he may be closer to an alliance than he had dared to hope he would be on the way here.

“You wanted to tell me something about Stannis?” Robb prompted after a moment.

“Yes,” Renly nodded, looking troubled. “I have spies on Dragonstone, of course, and their latest reports have been disturbing to say the least.”

“What..?” Robb began.

“Stannis has taken up with a priestess, or witch, may be a more appropriate term for her,” Renly said, and Robb frowned again. “She had effigies of the Seven burned on the beaches, and has been preaching against them – claiming her own God, R’hllor, is the one true God. She has named Stannis a prophet reborn and he is allowing her to conduct this madness. If he takes the throne, Robb, worship of the Seven will be outlawed. How can we allow that to happen? How can we expect the people to forsake their Gods? We cannot allow it, Stannis must not be allowed to take the Iron Throne – better claim or not.”

“Gods…” Robb wasn’t sure what else to say, so he took another long gulp of wine.

“I know, it is madness,” Renly shook his head. “Stannis was never pious, but I never thought he would turn his back on the Seven like this. This witch must have bewitched him well. But what worries me most, Robb, is where it will lead. Do you suppose this woman will be content with burning effigies? How long before it is Septons and Septas on her pyre? Or merely those who refuse to renounce their faith?”

“If that is truly where it will lead, then I agree it must be stopped. We need tolerance, no matter our differences in those we worship,” Robb said.

“Precisely!” Renly drained his cup and set it aside, clapping his hands together. “Just look at you and I, negotiating in complete civility and harmony despite you worshipping the Old Gods, and I keeping the faith of the Seven.”

“So, we are negotiating?” Robb asked with a hint of a smile.

“I do not think there is much left to say,” Renly returned. “I want the Iron Throne, you will help me win it in return for the North. You know, I have never been to the North, never wanted to. The cold does not agree with me. Allowing you to keep the title of King would not stop us remaining allies, would it?”

“I never wanted a war, and when this one is done I will not be seeking another,” Robb said.

“Nor will I,” Renly chuckled. “I much prefer the gaiety of peacetime, and the food is much better. Not to mention the wine – not that I will shy away from this. The throne must be won, and I must do my part to show the people that I am their best candidate.”

“And do you think your allies will be satisfied with you severing the North?” Robb asked.

“After lengthy and tough negotiations you and I agreed on a compromise, you could keep the North – with tough restrictions and agreements on trade put in place. You fought for your own currency but I would not hear of it. Nor would I hear of you taking the Riverlands, though you were insistent on it, I would not back down, and in the end I broke you,” Renly smiled. “Though, of course, you may tell your lords the exact opposite of that scenario.”

“Of course,” Robb chuckled.

“I have neither the heart nor the stomach for lengthy negotiations, Robb,” Renly shook his head, pouring more wine. “Take the North and surrender the Riverlands and I will be content, just promise me that you and your men will help me crush the Lannisters.”

“Gladly,” Robb nodded, accepting another cup of wine. “Though might I ask that you leave Joffrey to me?”

“Call it a gift,” Renly tipped his cup towards him.

“Perhaps I can offer you a gift in return,” Robb inclined his head.

“Pray tell?” Renly raised a brow.

“I have the Kingslayer,” Robb told him, and he grinned like a child.

“I had heard the rumours, so it is true?” Renly asked him, eyes alive.

“Aye,” Robb nodded, a grin on his own face.

“Then we will have something to drink to tonight at the feast,” Renly looked delighted. “I will hold you up no longer, doubtless you will want to rest and bathe beforehand. Your tent is opposite mine, I trust you will find it comfortable.”

“Thank you, I’m sure that I will, your Grace,” Robb bowed his head.

“I shall see you in a few hours,” Renly bowed in return, “ _your_ Grace.”

* * *

Robb fastened his doublet slowly, feeling his stomach churn in slight nervousness. Having seen the grandness of Renly’s camp, and how the southern man adorned himself in finery, had made him rather aware of his own appearance. He had no fine clothes, had never had any need of them. At Winterfell boiled leather and simple fabrics were more than sufficient. He took a breath, there were far more important things than fine clothing. Renly was no doubt more interested in his prowess on the battlefield, not how fancy his attire was.

He straightened the front of his doublet and ran a hand through his hair a few times, trying to calm his unruly curls. His effort was in vain, if anything he had only succeeded in making himself look more untidy. With a sigh he gave up, turning away from the looking glass. As he moved he caught sight of Grey Wind skulking in through the tent entrance.

“Decided to turn up, have you?” Robb asked him with a raised brow.

Grey Wind merely furrowed his own brow, before sniffing at the air hopefully. Robb rolled his eyes and moved to the table where a serving girl had deposited some hard bread and cheese for him earlier. He had declined to eat it, his stomach had been too unsettled. Now he was calmer though, it was starting to snarl at him. Still, he would be attending the feast soon enough, so he tossed the bread to his grateful wolf who caught in with a snap and gulped it down in an instant. Robb sighed and threw him the cheese, which he caught gracefully and devoured.

“Can’t be bothered catching your own dinner tonight, I assume,” Robb said drily as Grey Wind licked his chops. His wolf seemed to take no notice of his tone, padding further into the tent and sticking his nose into every corner. Robb watched him with a half-smile on his face until his wolf finally seemed satisfied with his inspection. He came closer to Robb and nudged his hand before climbing up onto the bed and settling down on the end of it, yawning widely.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Robb warned him, before he straightened his doublet once more and made to leave the tent.

Outside he breathed in the fresh air, his ears hearing the familiar sounds of camp life. Renly’s camp was undoubtedly more comfortable than his own, but the murmurs and laughter of the men was the same. It was the sound of an army who were confident in their leader, and willing to fight for him. It was a sound that filled Robb with confidence, a sound that allowed him to push away the lingering uneasiness at allying with Renly ahead of Stannis. Though, having heard what Renly had to say about his elder brother, he could not help feeling he had made the better choice. The people also seemed to rally around him and adore him in a way he knew they never would with Stannis.

He took a breath, his father would have understood. He had to believe that.

After a moment lost in his own thoughts he pulled himself together and set off towards the vast tent where Renly was entertaining his bannermen and most prominent lords and generals, and their families. It seemed everyone was here at his camp. Where Robb had few women in his camp, he had seen several here. His mother had told him that it was likely the remnants of the wedding party, as he was only recently married to Margaery Tyrell, and she thought it likely they would all soon disperse back to their own homes.

Robb also thought it likely, more than that, he hoped it likely. Renly seemed comfortable here, perhaps a little too comfortable for Robb’s liking. There were battles to fight and a war to win, and they could do neither sat here at Bitterbridge observing tourneys. Robb knew he shouldn’t push, their alliance was mere hours old, but he was impatient to know what Renly’s plan was and when he was considering implementing it.

Still, tonight was not the night. Tonight he would feast and drink and smile and make sure he showed Renly what a good ally he would be. Tomorrow though…

He shook his head. Tomorrow was another day, hopefully one in which a real plan would be put in place. Now he resigned himself to focus only on the rumbling of his stomach as two guards bowed at his approach and pulled back the heavy tent entrance to allow him to walk through. He inclined his head to them in thanks as he did so, hearing the flap dropped back into place behind him.

“Ah! Robb, come and join us!” Renly hailed him at once, and Robb could feel the eyes of most of those in attendance on him as he walked up towards the high table. Renly looked pleased to see him, his smile and eyes as warm as ever. Margaery was sat on his left, looking even lovelier in an even lowlier cut dress than before. Robb decided to keep his eyes away from her, keeping his attention on Renly as he moved closer, noting that Renly was gesturing for him to take the empty space on his right.

“Thank you, your Grace,” Robb said politely as he took his place.

“Renly, please,” Renly corrected him. “We are equals after all.”

That seemed to catch the attention of those sitting in close proximity. Robb swallowed hard as he waited for a bad reaction, managing a smile and a nod of acceptance for Renly as he settled in his chair.

“Wine?” Renly asked.

“Please,” Robb replied.

Renly beckoned a cupbearer forwards and Robb soon had a healthy measure of a rich red in a finely engraved goblet. The cups in his own camp were made of either wood or animal horn, but it would not have surprised him to learn that Renly’s were solid gold. Despite feeling rather out of place amongst such finery, Robb did feel himself begin to relax a little as he let the wine slip down his throat. It was heavenly, as was the smell of the food that was just beginning to be brought in by the servants. His mouth was watering just thinking of it, and he accepted a healthy serving of roast ox and rich gravy without hesitation.

Once that was before him he could think of little else other than his stomach for several minutes, only resuming all his senses when Renly called for his wine cup to be refilled. Robb thanked the older man, and Renly raised his own goblet to him.

“To a long and enduring friendship,” he toasted.

“A long and enduring friendship,” Robb repeated.

“I’d like us to get to know one another better, Robb,” Renly said. “But you must forgive me a moment, I do believe there is a message for me. I will leave you in the capable hands of my wife.”

“Of course,” Robb said.

Renly stood then, kissing his queen lightly on her temple before he made his way down between the tables to the entrance of the tent where Loras Tyrell was stood, half bathed in shadow. Robb watched them as he supped down more wine, the conversation between them looked intense even from such a distance. Renly looked back towards the high table a few times, the look in his eyes almost panicked. Robb wondered for a moment if he should go over there. If something had happened then surely he ought to know about it?

“My husband has never been to the North,” Margaery piped up before he could act on his wish to join Renly and Loras. “I asked him about it earlier,” she continued when Robb turned to give her his attention. “I hoped he might be able to tell me something about the kingdom he is so willing to sever, but he could not. Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

“You think he is being rash, allowing me to keep my title?” Robb asked her in return, ignoring her question.

“You have met my husband, have you not? His entire nature is rash, he is like the late King in that regard, I believe,” Margaery said, a half-smile tugging her lips.

“It could be worse, he could have given me the Riverlands as well,” Robb said drily.

She laughed at that, a tinkling, musical laugh that seemed to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He swallowed hard, taking another sip of wine to try and keep his composure.

“He assures me he had to fight you hard to make you give it up,” she said playfully.

“I have never come up against such a highly skilled negotiator,” Robb replied.

“Indeed,” the look Margaery gave him was searching, but she was soon smiling again as Renly approached the table. Robb felt irritation at his reappearance despite himself. He had been rather enjoying his unexpected conversation with the queen. Still, he pushed it aside and turned his attention to her husband.

“Is everything alright?” Robb asked.

“Of course,” Renly smiled, re-seating himself. “Just news from Dragonstone, Stannis has set sail.”

“To King’s Landing?” Robb asked him, brows raised.

“I can only assume so,” Renly replied.

“And what is your own plan?” he tried to keep calm as he asked, irritated by Renly’s apparent nonchalance at Stannis’ movements.

“I outnumber Stannis, I will easily beat him in the field, but why should I not let him diminish his own force and the Lannisters force beforehand?” Renly asked with a grin. “Stannis and the Lannisters can slaughter one another, and when they are finished I shall finish them, and the throne will be mine.”

“You will strike the Capital when it is at its weakest,” Robb nodded, understanding.

“Unless you have a better idea?” Renly asked, raising a brow.

“It’s your throne,” Robb returned, and Renly grinned.

“Yes,” he agreed, letting out a long sigh. “Yes, it is.”

“Will we stay here much longer, my love?” Margaery spoke softly, though her eyes were keen.

“We will leave for Storm’s End the day after tomorrow,” Renly replied, and she smiled.

“I cannot wait to see it,” Margaery said.

“Do not fall in love with it, your place will be at the Capital soon enough,” Renly told her.

“My place is with you,” she returned, and Robb busied himself with his wine. “Would you indulge me with a dance, my love?”

“I wish I could, my dear,” Renly replied. “But I must speak with your father about these hastened arrangements. Perhaps our honoured guest would take a turn with you?” Renly turned to look at him expectantly and Robb swallowed his mouthful, placing the empty goblet down.

“If her Grace wishes it,” he said, not knowing what else he could say.

“There, Margaery, a willing partner for you,” Renly smiled.

“My queen?” Robb stood, and offered his hand.

“I’d be delighted, your Grace,” she returned politely, placing her hand in his and rising up.

Her skin was warm and soft, and the feel of it on his own was all that Robb could think about as he led her into the open space where several others were dancing. He had never been much of a dancer, but his mother had insisted that they all learn the most popular styles – both northern and southern. Never before had he been grateful for that insistence, but he was silently thanking her now as he and Margaery began their dance, mirroring one another almost perfectly. Thankfully this particular dance did not involve him touching any more than her hand. The last thing he wanted to appear was inappropriate.

“You dance well, your Grace,” she sounded surprised, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

“You can thank my mother for that,” he responded, and she smiled in return.

“There is more to you than meets the eye, I think,” she said.

“What makes you say that, my queen?” he asked curiously.

“I asked my grandmother about your father, I assumed you would be like him,” she said. “And, though I think you are, in many ways, from what I have heard and observed, I think you understand certain things better than he did – the Gods bless him.”

“And what would they be?” he frowned slightly.

“You understand that not all men share your honour,” she said. “You expect treachery, and, I think, would recognise false courtesies and promises.”

“You flatter me,” he smiled slightly.

“You’ve surprised everyone, it is not often my grandmother admits she is wrong,” Margaery smiled back.

“Let me guess, she imagined I would be dead by now?” he raised a brow.

“Something like that,” she said, taking a half-step closer to him as they continued to dance.

“I imagine Tywin Lannister thought I would be too,” he said.

“I imagine he would have _hoped_ , especially after your continued success against Lannister forces,” she smiled more widely.

“You know about that?” he questioned.

“Of course, my grandmother knows everything,” she said.

“But not about the Kingslayer?” he pressed.

“We dared not hope to believe that that was indeed true,” she said smoothly. “You can forgive us for thinking it to be a gross exaggeration, though I am delighted to hear that it was, in fact, a true account. You are truly a warrior to be feared.”

“You flatter me again, my queen,” Robb said, feeling his cheeks warm at the look she was giving him.

“Only the truth, again, your Grace,” she said in a slightly teasing manner.

“You must forgive me, I did not properly congratulate you on your marriage,” he said, clearing his throat. “Nor did I bring a gift, as I ought to have done.”

“Thank you,” she said serenely. “Though you would have had no way of knowing since you were travelling here at the time. I am only glad you did not miss all the celebrations.”

“I’m honoured to be a part of it,” Robb told her politely.

“I hear you will soon be wed yourself, your Grace,” she commented. “There will be no excuse for myself and my husband not to get you and your bride a gift – since we know of the coming union well in advance.”

“There is no need to trouble yourselves,” he said, unsure whether she was teasing him or not.

“What is her name?” Margaery asked.

“Did you not hear that, as well?” he asked in return, smirking slightly.

“Evidently not,” she said, pursing her lips to clearly avoid smiling.

“I don’t know her name, I have yet to make my choice,” he told her after a moment.

“Goodness! Spoiled for choice!” she exclaimed teasingly, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not sure about that,” he said honestly.

“You did what you had to do,” she said, suddenly serious. “Just as I did. I am sure that you will be very happy together.”

“Thank you, I only hope I am as lucky in my marriage as you are in yours,” he said warmly.

“You’re very kind,” she smiled, though for a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of uneasiness.

It was gone in the next moment though, and they transitioned into another, livelier, dance, which left them little room for anymore conversation. Robb did hope, however, that he would have further chance to speak with Margaery alone again, as he had enjoyed her company very much and found himself wanting to know more about her. After all, she would be queen of the southern kingdoms, it was only right that he should be curious, surely?


	2. Permission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys for the lovely comments on the first chapter! Having never written Robb/Margaery before it was very encouraging. Hope you enjoy the second chapter (and the rest!)

 

* * *

“Perhaps we should ask Loras to join us,” Margaery suggested, eyes cast downwards.

“No,” Renly replied firmly.

“But -” she began.

“No!” he almost snapped, and she lifted her head to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he apologised, and she shook her head, rising up to her feet.

“If it’s what it takes for you to be able to -” she began again.

“Margaery, I said no,” he said, an edge to his voice that told her not to push it any further.

“Why don’t I pour us some more wine?” she asked brightly, changing the subject and crossing to the sideboard where a flagon and two cups rested. Renly didn’t respond, and so she went ahead and poured them both a measure. This wasn’t the first night of doing such a thing, and she knew how it would end.

They would both drink too much to try and mask their awkwardness, then he would clumsily kiss her and half undress her before pulling away and claiming he could not take her because he had had too much wine. Margaery knew it was untrue, but if she did not stay and drink with him then he would soon find a reason to ask her to leave. She had to be here, just in case there was the slightest chance that his desire would stir for her.

It had to. She knew it. He knew it. The whole court knew it. She had heard them whispering behind their hands. The common folk would blame her for the lack of a child, but the lords and ladies Renly surrounded himself with would know the truth. Margaery still hadn’t decided which would be worse, judgement from those who didn’t know, or pity from those who did. She hoped she would never have to find out. If Renly could just do his duty until she was with child then she would be satisfied.

She eyed him as she returned to the seating area with their drinks, handing him his before taking the chair opposite him and fixing her gaze on him.

“Don’t,” he said after a moment, gulping down several mouthfuls.

“We cannot keep on like this,” she said.

“When we take the Capital, things will be better – I will be less tense,” he said, unconvincingly.

“Are you tense with Loras?” she asked him sarcastically, and he narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I just want to be a good wife, a good queen, and how can I do that if my husband cannot even bear to lay with me?”

“It’s not you,” Renly said quietly. “You know that, don’t you? Do not think I am blind to your beauty. Those who say you are the most beautiful woman in the kingdoms are not wrong, and you cannot understand how much it shames me that I cannot appreciate you.”

“Renly…” she began softly, not even knowing what else to say.

“Women have never tempted me Margaery,” he shook his head. “And if you cannot, then I fear no woman ever will.”

“But, you are king, you _need_ an heir,” she stressed.

“I know,” he said. “Believe me, I know.”

“And you must also know, that I will do _anything, anything_ at all to make it easier for you. To make it work, to make _us_ work,” she implored him, holding his eyes.

“I know,” he said softly, “but you deserve better than this. Better than trapped in marriage to a man incapable of ever satisfying you. I wouldn’t blame you, you know, if you were to…” he cleared his throat. “If you… _wanted_ to, with another, I mean.”

“Take a lover?” she asked him in an astonished whisper.

“You would have to be discreet,” he said warningly. “And you could not risk falling pregnant.”

“Renly! I couldn’t!” she said, aghast.

“Of course you could, if you wanted to, you would not be the first queen and doubtless you will not be the last to do so,” he said quickly.

“But it is _your_ bed I should be sharing!” she insisted.

“And when we take the Capital, I _swear_ we will try, whatever it takes,” he said.

“And I will wait,” she said stubbornly.

“Very well, I will not force you,” he said tiredly. “But if you change your mind, I will not judge you.”

Margaery said nothing, sipping on her wine, her mind spinning. She could not believe that Renly had suggested such a thing, but she supposed he was right in part. Queens had had lovers before, though she doubted they had ever been taken after such willingness on their husbands’ part. She knew it was guilt rather than anything else that drove Renly, he hadn’t really wanted to marry her but how could he pass on the opportunity? Her family brought wealth and thousands of men to bolster his own numbers. Unless something went spectacularly wrong, Renly would take the Iron Throne, and she would sit beside him – the queen he had never wanted. Perhaps his permission was his way of apologising?

“There are some handsome men at court,” he commented when she lowered her cup again.

She rolled her eyes in response.

“Obviously I only have eyes for one,” he teased, and she couldn’t help but smile. He truly did love Loras, and Loras returned the feelings just as strongly. Perhaps in another time or another place they would have been allowed to be openly happy. She sighed. 

“I must say, Robb Stark is far more handsome than I imagined he would be,” Renly said, watching her carefully.

“He favours his mother, I think,” she said nonchalantly.

“Smiles slightly more than Ned,” he added.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said.

“Same sense of honour, though,” he continued.

“Yes,” Margaery agreed. “Though I think there is a sharpness there, an awareness of the south that perhaps his father did not possess.”

“I hope so,” Renly said, looking at her curiously. “You enjoy his company.”

“Well enough,” she shrugged.

“I wouldn’t mind -” he began.

“Don’t,” it was her turn to stop him, and he inclined his head in agreement.

“Just don’t think you cannot spend time with whoever you please,” he said.

“It’s innocent,” she said firmly.

“I know,” he soothed, raising his cup to his lips and taking a long sip. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

* * *

Renly’s words haunted Margaery to the extent that she hid herself away for the next day, only venturing from her tent when the men came to dismantle it. It was warm out, but there was a slightly cooling breeze and so she had her handmaiden fetch her a light travelling cloak. While she waited she cast her eyes suspiciously about camp. It was mostly packed away now, the royal tents were the last to come down. Renly’s had already gone, as had Robb Stark’s. It appeared only her own and the one occupied by Lady Stark were still erected.

As her eyes fixed on the tent opposite her own the occupant made her way out. She offered Lady Stark a smile, and received a rather strained one in return. Lady Stark mourned her husband; that much was obvious. Margaery did not think she had ever seen a more defeated looking woman. Perhaps she had just been sheltered from reality for too long. Perhaps all women ended up looking that way in the end. Margaery could certainly feel defeat in her own bones, but she hoped it did not yet show on her face. Her grandmother had taught her to always guard her emotions – to never let too much of the truth seek out.

She had been careless lately. The long nights with Renly, drinking until the small hours, they had made her tongue looser. He was unguarded with her. It made it too easy to be the same with him. The irony was not lost on her that they likely rubbed along better than most married couples. If only they could rub along just as well between the sheets. She scowled, hoping that no one could see her. It was testing, to say the least. She didn’t feel trapped. She enjoyed Renly’s company and no woman could ever say that he was not a handsome man. Plenty of women likely envied her marriage. _If only they knew…_

Her thoughts drifted to his suggestion again. It had horrified her, the ready way in which he had suggested it, as though it would not bother him in the slightest to know that she was being fucked by another man. But then, why would it? He had no interest in her, he treated her as a trusted friend, almost like a sister. Perhaps he loved her, in some way, but no desire came with it. Nor, she would only admit this to herself, was there any desire for him on her part. Yes, he was handsome. And, yes, she enjoyed his company, but he did nothing to the speed of her heart. He did not make her stomach flutter, or her head spin. He was as much a friend to her as she was to him. The difference was, she was willing to try and be more.

She sighed and slowly made her way to where she knew her horse was being saddled up. What if she did heed Renly’s suggestion? Even just thinking it had her glancing around guiltily, as though someone could read her thoughts. No. She could not. Margaery determined to forget what he had said as she reached her horse, speaking politely with the stable boy for a moment before she took the reins in her hands and prepared to mount the mare.

“May I help you, my queen?” his voice was instantly recognisable, and had she not been her grandmother’s granddaughter then she would have flushed in an instant. _It is only because of what Renly said, ignore it._

“You’re most kind,” she said neutrally, desperately trying to ignore how the warmth of his hands through the thin material of her dress made her skin tingle. Damn Renly. Curse him. She hadn’t felt like this when Robb Stark had touched her at the feast, had she? She blinked. Had she? In the next moment she was settled in her saddle and sending him a customary smile. “Thank you,” she said politely, before determinedly looking away from him.

That was a mistake too, for she instantly found her husband’s eyes. He sent her a sly smile and she glowered at him. Renly turned away then, clearly stifling a laugh, before he hauled himself up atop his own horse. She assumed he would be riding with the northern king, and so she determined to stay behind them and amuse herself with her ladies. One of whom approached now, with her travelling cloak.

“My queen,” Tessa bobbed into a curtsey before offering up the cloak.

“Thank you,” Margaery took it, throwing it around her shoulders and fastening it carefully.

Renly, saddled up ahead of her, looked back and around in the next moment, clearly checking that everyone was ready to depart. Obviously he was satisfied, as a moment later he was shouting the order to leave. His banner bearers went first, and he trotted after them, Loras on one side of him and Brienne on the other. Margaery pressed her heels gently into her horse’s side and eased her into a light trot, settling a few lengths behind Renly. For a moment she rode alone, but then _he_ drew up beside her, keeping his horse to the same pace as hers. It was irritating, but at the same time she felt slightly pleased with herself. _Bury it, Margaery._

“Are you not riding with my husband?” she asked him pointedly when he offered no words.

“I rather think he is sick of my company as we spent most of yesterday having a war conference,” Robb told her in an amused tone.

“Indeed,” she said. It came out more coldly than she intended, and she had to remind herself that she was queen, and that she ought to be more gracious. “Forgive me, we have a long journey ahead of us and I am finding it rather daunting. This is my first time away from Highgarden for any extended time.”

“I am in the same boat, my queen,” he said sympathetically. “I had never left the North until I marched with my banners.”

“You must have travelled much of the North, though?” she inquired.

“Much,” he nodded in agreement. “With my father, as he taught me how to be a lord. Though, there are parts of the North even I have never seen.”

“Such as?” she asked, curious despite herself.

“The Wall,” he said almost longingly. “I envy my brother, in some ways. I would so like to see the Wall.”

“Your brother?” she raised a brow.

“Half-brother, I suppose,” he said, clearing his throat slightly. “Jon.”

“He took the Black?” she asked, concluding that he must mean his bastard brother, and deciding not to draw attention to it.

“Yes,” Robb answered her, his jaw tightening for a moment.

“You must miss him,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he said again, and she decided to change the subject.

“Will your men be joining us at Storm’s End?” she asked.

“Yes,” Robb answered with what suspiciously sounded like false enthusiasm. “They are a mere days ride behind us now, depending how long Renly has us marching each day, they may catch up to us before we reach Storm’s End.”

“Do you suppose your Northmen ride harder than Renly’s southerners?” she teased him.

“I have fewer men, they are quicker to organise,” he replied tactfully.

“You are tactical on and off the battlefield, I see,” she said pointedly, and he laughed.

She enjoyed his laugh, and cursed herself for noticing it. Damn Renly, clearly this was all his fault. Her previous conversations with Robb had felt entirely innocent, and there had been no _tingling._ Had there? She was questioning herself again, and she shook her head to try and clear it of sinful thoughts. _Renly is your husband, concentrate._

“Are you alright, my queen?” Robb asked her in concern.

“Yes, just a little light-headed for a moment, I did not have much of an appetite at breakfast – likely I didn’t eat enough,” she made her poor excuse, but he seemed to accept it without question.

“You must say, if you need to stop,” he told her seriously, and she nodded her agreement.

“May I ask you something?” she turned her head to look at him properly.

“Of course,” he invited her at once.

“Do you really have no desire for the Iron Throne?” she asked. “Have you never even, _thought_ about it?”

“No,” he said, his face a picture of honesty.

“Why?” she asked, despite herself, a frown furrowing her brow.

“Winterfell is my home,” he said simply, and all she could do was smile slightly.

“You’re not like most men,” she said quietly.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Most men cannot help themselves,” she said. “They want more, even if they shouldn’t.”

“Well, I am king, when by rights I should only ever have been a lord,” he said teasingly.

“True,” Margaery agreed with a laugh. “What made you take the title?”

“You haven’t met the Greatjon yet, have you?” he said, raising a brow.

“No,” she replied, lips tilting up into a half-smile.

“When you do, you’ll know why I accepted the title,” he told her, and she laughed again.

She laughed many times that afternoon, even the discomfort of riding for so long could not dampen her spirits. Every now and again she caught Renly looking over his shoulder, a knowing look in his eye. She dismissed his looks, he was wrong, his mind wandering where it ought not to. All she was doing was enjoying the company of the King in the North. It was friendship, and that was all it would be. All it ever could be. She would not compromise herself and allow it to ever become more, to even think of it becoming any more.

* * *

Catelyn watched as her son danced elegantly with Renly’s queen. He seemed to have struck up an easy friendship with the girl. She supposed it wasn’t all that surprising, they were the same age and likely had much in common, not least being far from home for the first time in their lives. Robb had had to grow up far too quickly for her liking, so had all her children. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought of them. So far away. Without her. Lost and afraid. She closed her eyes and took a breath to compose herself. Now was not the time to let her mask slip. Her clothing showed her grief, she could not allow it to show so readily on her face. She had to be content, at least. She was, really, Robb had quickly allied with Renly, and so long as he held the Kingslayer she was reasonably assured that her daughters would be safe.

“Catelyn Tully,” a crisp voice addressed her and she looked up, her eyes widening.

“Lady Olenna!” she said in surprise.

“It’s been many years,” Olenna Tyrell said, a smile quirking her lips.

“Please, sit,” Catelyn gestured to the seat next to her. “Would you care for some wine?”

“It would be a delight,” Olenna returned.

Catelyn beckoned over a cupbearer before turning her attention back to her new companion.

“I must say, I did not expect to see you here,” she said honestly.

“I did not expect to be here,” Olenna said drily. “I am far too old for this, but my son is an idiot. I cannot trust him to do the right thing and so I must be here. Besides, I am very fond of my granddaughter, Highgarden is not as joyous without her.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Catelyn said.

“My troubles are nothing to yours,” she said, shaking her head. “Eddard Stark was an honourable man, I am sorry to say that that is doubtless what killed him. Though, I am sure there are some who could have prevented it – who did nothing, and said nothing. Cowards and rats make up that city, a man like your husband had no chance, I am sorry to say.”

“I begged him not to go,” Catelyn admitted.

“Of course you did. You’re a shrewd woman and no fool. You should have gone with him, stopped him being so damn honourable,” Olenna almost snapped.

“Nothing and no one could have prevented Ned doing what he perceived as the right thing. As much as it pains me, I never would have changed him,” she said quietly.

“Quite right,” Olenna said, turning away to sup down some wine. “That’s your boy, there, is it? With my granddaughter? He has your look, but his father’s honour, no doubt?”

“Yes,” Catelyn agreed, “Robb is his father’s son. But what happened to Ned has hardened him, he is no fool, Lady Olenna.”

“Good, my son is fool enough, I will not abide any more of them,” she said tartly, a sour look on her face. “Margaery is nothing like him, thanks the Gods.”

“She has been very gracious,” Catelyn allowed.

“She will be a proper queen, a queen the people will love,” Olenna said, pride now lacing her tone.

“I don’t doubt it,” Catelyn said.

“Have you heard what Cersei Lannister has done at the Capital?” Olenna snapped.

“No,” Catelyn said, trying to calm herself. She had only met Lady Olenna on a handful of occasions, but each time she found herself constantly on edge. Not for nothing was she dubbed the Queen of Thorns.

“She has had all Robert’s bastards rounded up, and murdered,” Olenna told her, a look of disgust on her face. “From grown men and girls to babes at the breast. Murdered. In broad daylight with no shame, all done by the Gold Cloaks. By the Gods, I have heard some things in my time, but that woman truly is a disgrace to our sex. You know why, of course?”

“I can well imagine,” Catelyn’s voice shook with disgust and rage. This was the woman holding her daughters hostage. A woman capable of ordering the deaths of innocent children. It was enough to make her shudder.

“Of course, you’re a clever woman. Cleverer than that sister of yours, and your brother for that matter,” Olenna said. “Slow witted, the pair of them – no offence.”

“You believe it, about queen and her children?” Catelyn asked.

“You mean the bitch and her bastards?” Olenna corrected. “I have no doubt. That boy is wrong, by all accounts. The younger two I hear are good natured, but the boy who unlawfully sits that throne is a monster, make no mistake. It’s the risk you take, you know what they said about the Targaryens? Each time one came into the world the Gods tossed a coin.”

“There are some who would say that Renly is unlawfully claiming the throne,” Catelyn dared say.

“And to them I would say, would you prefer Stannis?” Olenna chimed. “I do wonder if he has gone quite mad – they say his priestess is a witch who burns people for sport. He is not right for these kingdoms, and he has no son.”

“Neither has Renly,” Catelyn pointed out.

“He soon will have, of that I have no doubt,” she said smugly.

“I pray the Gods are good,” Catelyn said dutifully.

“The Gods have little to do with it,” Olenna said drily.

“Perhaps not,” Catelyn said.

“Your son seems happy enough to be pledged to Renly,” she commented after a moment.

“Robb is allied with him, as an equal,” Catelyn said, stung.

“Of course,” she said dismissively. “But one kingdom is hardly equal to six.”

“But one is all Robb wants, all he has ever wanted,” Catelyn said slightly heatedly.

“Funny, I hear he is named King in the North _and_ of the Trident,” Olenna shot back.

“Yes,” Catelyn agreed defensively. “My brother, Edmure, pledged himself to Robb after he broke the siege of Riverrun, and he will remain pledged to Robb until such a time a man worthy of being a true king sits the Iron Throne!”

Olenna cackled at that, and Catelyn took a calming breath. “It was fun sparring with you, dear,” Olenna said, patting her knee. “We shall have to do it again sometime,” she continued, before draining her wine. “But for now you must excuse me, I must speak with my granddaughter.”

* * *

Robb was disgruntled at having his dance with Margaery cut short, though he had been rather proud at escaping from the Queen of Thorns without any scratches. Lady Olenna Tyrell had a formidable reputation, and he had no desire whatsoever to tangle with her. Instead he had bowed and kissed her hand and enquired after her health before quickly excusing himself with a warm smile, telling how nice it was to have made her acquaintance. She had looked amused by him, and he imagined that she, like so many others, had immediately dismissed him.

It didn’t bother him, he knew he had many more battles to win before he could call himself a warrior. No one could deny that he had made a good start though. He sighed, taking a full cup of wine with thanks and moving through the crowd of people who had gathered at yet another feast. Try as he might he still could not fathom how Renly was able to throw such lavish banquets every night they stopped to rest.

“Enjoying yourself?” the man himself asked from behind him and Robb turned and smiled.

“I cannot fault it,” he said truthfully. “I must confess, I will be sad indeed to miss these feasts when this is done with and I return to Winterfell.”

“Come now,” Renly chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Northern food cannot be that bad, surely?”

“I have never thought of it as bad,” Robb told him. “Though now I have come this far south I wonder that my tastes have likely been spoiled.”

“Or broadened, perhaps?” he asked in a teasing manner.

“Aye, perhaps,” Robb agreed with a chuckle. He found himself liking Renly more and more the more time he spent in his company. Any lingering doubts he had had over following him over Stannis had swiftly evaporated.

“Come, sit with me a moment, I have something of importance to discuss with you,” Renly was suddenly serious, and Robb’s brow furrowed as he agreed, following Renly to a dimly lit corner and sitting opposite him.

“What is it?” Robb asked concernedly when they were both settled.

“Your pact with the Freys,” Renly said.

“Oh,” he took a breath of relief, thankful it was nothing more serious.

“Would I be right in thinking it would not have been your first choice?” Renly asked.

“Nor my second, if I am honest,” Robb replied with a wry smile and his companion chuckled.

“Perhaps there is something to be done about it,” Renly said.

“I’m all ears,” said Robb, hoping he did not sound too eager or desperate.

“Walder Frey is a lord of the Riverlands,” Renly began. “When I sit the throne your uncle will have to come to me and beg forgiveness for not bending the knee sooner, all for show of course,” he waved his hand in an unconcerned manner. “However, that show could well get you out of your marriage pact. After all, would I really want you, the King in the North, taking a wife from the country you also once claimed? What if you tried to claim it again?”

“I see,” Robb said in an amused tone, and Renly grinned.

“I think you see where I’m going with this, Robb,” Renly said. “Walder Frey will have to come to me, tail between his legs, just like all the other lords who didn’t support me from the start. Now, I will accept his fealty, but what I cannot accept is him being rewarded with a queen for a daughter. No, I will sleep much more easily at night knowing that you are married to a southern girl from a great family that I trust implicitly. And I don’t doubt you too would sleep easier, or perhaps not,” he winked.

“A southern wife, you say?” Robb said with a smile, reclining back easily in his chair.

“You can have your pick, of course,” Renly said, waving his hand again. “They will all be at the Capital for the coronation – which of course, you would stay for.”

“Of course,” Robb agreed readily.

“And there you will choose your bride, name her and so long as she is free, she is yours. Her family would not refuse a direct order from me, and of course, it would all be my idea – you would have _no_ choice in it whatsoever,” Renly was almost laughing now.

“You’re too good to me,” Robb chuckled.

“And don’t you damn well forget it,” Renly joined in his laughter, clinking his goblet against his. “Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal,” Robb agreed, grinning from ear to ear. It was all he had ever wanted, some choice over his future wife. Now Renly was giving him the choice of all the eligible women in the southern kingdoms. He glanced towards Margaery and his smile faltered for a moment. He pushed the thought from his head. It could never be so. He drank deeply from his cup and tried to forget he had ever thought it.

* * *

“And you haven’t managed to entice him yet?” her grandmother asked bluntly.

“No, grandmother,” Margaery replied, cringing back in her seat.

“Humph,” she grumbled. “I am not entirely surprised, of course, but I would have thought you would have made some progress by now.”

“I try, every night, I try,” Margaery insisted. “I would be trying right now if you had not insisted I be here instead.”

“Watch your tone, girl,” her grandmother snapped.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “It is just so frustrating! I have tried everything, I even offered to have Loras _help_ , to begin with, but Renly will not hear of it.”

“He cannot bury his head in the mud forever, he needs a child, and he will not get one from Loras!”

“He knows that,” Margaery said calmly. “He has promised me that we will succeed when he takes the throne. He knows he needs an heir.”

“I knew this wouldn’t be easy,” her grandmother said icily. “But Gods be good, I thought you of all women would be able to entice him. If only Renly was as easily captivated as that Stark boy.”

“What do you mean?” Margaery asked her sharply.

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes. “The boy is completely infatuated with you. The whole world can see it, and the whole world cannot fathom why your _husband_ does not look at you the same way.”

“I have done nothing to encourage such a thing,” Margaery gabbled.

“Of course you haven’t, you’re not that stupid,” her grandmother said dismissively.

“No,” Margaery agreed quietly.

She had wondered whether to tell her grandmother what Renly had said to her, about the permission he had given her. After hearing that though, she resolved to keep it to herself.

“He’s a handsome boy, though,” her grandmother said slyly, and Margaery sighed.

“Yes, I suppose,” she said in what she hoped was an unaffected manner.

“I imagine it must be tempting, given that he shows you the kind of attention that your husband is unable or unwilling to provide you,” her grandmother went on.

“Renly pays me plenty of attention,” Margaery said irritably.

“He treats you as a beloved sister, no more,” her grandmother said tiredly. “The Stark pup must make you wonder what it would be like, to have a true relationship with your husband.”

“Robb is a friend to me, I enjoy his company, no more,” she said adamantly.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, Margaery,” her grandmother said, her tone softer now, and almost sympathetic. “But you cannot lie to me.”


	3. Tipping Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has left kudos, and taken the time to leave a comment. I very much appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter!   
> :)

 

“You’ve been quiet these last days,” Renly said, looking at Margaery concernedly.

“It’s all this travelling,” she sighed. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Funny,” Renly eyed her. “You seemed happy and full of life enough before your grandmother arrived.”

“Oh Gods,” she groaned. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Not to everyone, I don’t think,” he chuckled, offering a full cup of wine out to her.

She took it from him with thanks and he watched as she gulped several mouthfuls down in one. He raised his brows, it was usually him drinking copiously during their evenings together – not her. Something was clearly wrong, and he hoped she would tell him. While he did not love his wife in the conventional sense, he did care very much about her happiness. It was alright for him, he could enjoy a friendship with her while still maintaining his relationship with the one he truly loved, and all with his wife’s blessing. That was why he had suggested she take a lover, so she could be as satisfied in their marriage as he was.

“You can tell me anything, you know?” he coaxed her, taking the seat opposite and laying a hand on her knee until she looked up at him.

“Grandmother thinks -,” she began, then stopped and shook her hand.

“Go on,” he prompted. “Whatever your grandmother thinks is usually accurate, as she is always quick to remind me.”

“She thinks that – that – Robb -,” she stuttered.

“Is completely enamoured with you?” Renly suggested with a chuckle, and Margaery blushed.

“She didn’t put it quite like that,” she said quietly.

“Well, however she put it, she’s right,” he said, and she stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh, my sweet little queen,” he laughed again. “He can barely keep his eyes from you, and despite having the pleasure of my company he is so often seeking out yours. You must be alluring indeed, I so wish I knew how to appreciate it.”

“It’s not funny,” Margaery pouted.

“It’s a little funny,” he countered and she scowled at him.

“That expression does not become you, my dear,” he said lightly.

She said nothing to that, clearly preferring to turn her attention back to the wine. Renly rose up after a few moments and moved to the side table to bring the flagon to the low table between them. Something told him he would be calling his squire for more soon enough. Margaery seemed determined to drink all of her troubles away.

“You know,” he began tentatively, wondering how best to phrase it without offending her. “When I suggested you could seek company with another, there were no restrictions on who you could choose. Perhaps, for a time, you and Robb could make one another happy?” 

“For a time,” Margaery snorted before draining her cup. He leant over to refill it as soon as she banged it down on the table.

“He will have to marry eventually. That is the trouble with choosing a king,” he said calmly.

“I haven’t _chosen_ anyone!” she said heatedly.

“But you could,” he said gently.

“Would you not even mind in the slightest?” she asked him incredulously. “I am your wife. Your _maiden_ wife! It should be _you_ taking me to bed, you are the king that I am queen to, not Robb Stark!”

“Hush!” he gestured for her to keep her voice down. “I am merely suggesting it for your own happiness, your own desires. Mine are satisfied, it seems only fair that yours are.”

“Gods, if your council could hear you,” she sneered, throwing more wine down her throat.

“My council aren’t stupid,” he said.

“Maybe not, but I wonder about you sometimes,” she said scathingly and he sighed.

He supposed he deserved that. It was clear that Margaery wanted and needed a proper husband, one who could do his duty by her. She had been born and raised to be a proper lady and wife, and now he had elevated her to the role of queen and she was thriving, publically, at least. Privately she was nowhere near as serene and unaffected as she liked to pretend to be.

“I will try and be better,” he told her gently and her features softened.

“You keep saying that, Renly,” she said in a pained voice. “But when?”

“When we take King’s Landing,” he said.

“And when we take King’s Landing, there will be even more for you to do, even more excuses for you to make,” she sounded exhausted. “I will never be what you want, Renly, but you have to realise that if you don’t take me, then taking this throne will be pointless.”

“Just…just leave it, for now,” Renly told her patiently.

“I give up,” she laughed without humour. “I cannot keep doing this. I cannot keep coming here and trying to entice you only to have to push me away and tell me you cannot do it _yet._ I give up. I will not try any longer. When you finally come to your senses and realise that being with me is the only way you will secure your reign then you know where I will be. Waiting, just like a dutiful wife.”

With that she drained her cup again before slamming it down on the table and getting quickly to her feet. He opened his mouth to try and get her to stay but the look on her face had him closing it again. All he could do was sigh then as she threw him one final look of contempt before striding from the tent and pulling the flap furiously closed behind her. He sighed again, draining his own cup before placing it down and staring at it. She was right. He knew she was right. That didn’t make it any easier though. Looking at her, kissing her, touching her. It did nothing for him. Stirred nothing within him. It had always been men. Been Loras. He tipped his head back and let out a roar of anger.

“Bad time?”

He snapped his head round to see Loras stood there with a slight frown and a raised brow. Just looking at him stirred something within him. Gods, why could it not be so easy with Margaery? They looked so alike that they could be twins, but with her it just felt wrong.

“I saw Margaery,” Loras continued, slowly walking closer to him. “Leaving, I mean. She didn’t look very happy. Has something happened between the two of you?”

“No,” Renly said dully.

“I suppose _that_ is the problem,” Loras said astutely.

“She’s given up on me,” he said. “Not that I can blame her. I just _can’t,_ Loras. I know I must, for the good of my claim and for the good of the Kingdoms. I know Margaery must have a child, but I don’t know how in the seven hells I am supposed to put one in her. I have prayed and prayed to the Gods. I have _tried_ with her, I have, and she is more than willing but I – there is just nothing. _Nothing_.”

“You can’t just give up,” Loras told him, taking Margaery’s recently vacated chair.

“I don’t know what else I can do,” he said. “If she is no longer going to push me for it then I am hardly likely to go in pursuit, am I? I don’t want her, Loras. I never will. It’s you I love. I married Margaery because I could not marry you and I needed the support of your family, but I do not want her. She is a dear, sweet friend to me, but I cannot…I just cannot…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“Then what?” Loras asked him expectantly.

“I don’t know,” Renly said honestly. “I just don’t know.”

* * *

Robb had watched Margaery storm from Renly’s tent as he had been approaching his own. Despite him being stood in the light of a torch she had not noticed him, her blazing eyes seemingly only seeing her own tent, which she had disappeared inside a few moments before. Robb was still stood just outside his own tent, torn between entering and leaving her well alone, and crossing the short distance to her tent which was pitched next to Renly’s, a reasonable gap between them. The last thing he wanted to do was intrude, but at the same time she had looked upset. Could he just put that out of his mind? He doubted it. If he wanted to get any sleep at all then he was going to have to go over there and just make sure she was alright.

He glanced around him before he set off for her tent. His visit was, of course, an entirely innocent one, but he wasn’t stupid. People talked, and some people would make up malicious gossip if they caught him heading towards Renly’s queen’s tent after nightfall. He was half expecting Margaery to just tell him to go away anyway.

“My queen?” he asked uncertainly as he came to the entrance to her tent.

“Now is not a good time,” she sounded muffled, and he imagined her crying.

“I just want to know you’re alright,” he called softly.

“I’m fine,” she said in a strangled manner, and he sighed.

“I’m coming in,” he said. It was a reckless thing to do, and he risked the displeasure of both her and Renly by entering without her permission but he didn’t care. She was upset, and he needed to see her and try and offer her come comfort. He tried not to think too much about why he had that need, knowing that it could lead nowhere good.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Margaery told him as he slipped inside, her face pale and streaked with tears.

“But I am,” he said defiantly, moving closer.

“The Gods are truly testing me today,” she shook her head, laughing shakily.

“What do you mean?” he asked her with a slight frown.

“Nothing,” she said, furiously brushing the tears from her cheeks and standing herself up a little taller. He admired her instant composure. Renly had done well in choosing her as his queen. Not only did she bring him valuable allies and plentiful coin, but she also brought an effortless beauty and grace. She would be a most popular queen. Never had he been more envious of any man than he was of Renly Baratheon in that moment as he gazed at Margaery.

“Has something happened?” Robb pressed her gently, moving closer again despite himself.

“Don’t,” she whispered so quietly he wondered if he had imagined her saying it.

“Margaery?” he coaxed softly, his hand reaching out to touch the back of hers. She looked up and met his eyes and it took every ounce of strength he possessed to stay still.

“It was a stupid argument,” she moved away from him, approaching her side table and pouring two cups of wine. He watched her in silence, noting how her hand shook slightly.

“With Renly?” he asked as she turned.

“Who else?” she returned, bitterness lacing her tone as she offered him a cup.

He took it with thanks, wondering what else he could say. Perhaps naively he had assumed that she and Renly were happy in their marriage. They had always appeared happy, and no one could deny that they were a handsome match as well as a prosperous one. It seemed now that he had assumed wrongly. Margaery looked upset and more than a little frustrated as she gulped down her wine.

“I am sure whatever it is can be fixed,” he offered awkwardly and she snorted.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” she said, a sad half smile on her face.

“You are husband and wife, bonded for life. There must be some way for you to fix things, I do not think either of you will be content to be miserable,” he said.

“Renly is not miserable,” she snapped.

“But you are?” he frowned, and she shook her head at him.

“By the Gods,” she was laughing in the next moment and he was bewildered. “How long have you been here now? How can you not know?”

“Know what?” he was well and truly confused now, but his confusion only seemed to amuse her more.

“Renly doesn’t want me,” she said slowly.

“That’s madness!” he protested. “How could he not? You’re -” he made himself stop, blushing furiously.

“Thank you,” she said wryly. “But it matters not. Renly doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want any woman.”

“What…?” Robb was bewildered.

“Do men not lay with other men in the North?” she asked him sarcastically and his cheeks burned.

“I – don’t -,” he stammered.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, not really. I was fool enough to agree to it. Fool enough to think that I could change him. I can’t, though. I have tried. The Gods know I have tried but I cannot make him be a proper husband to me.”

“You – mean?” Robb had never been more embarrassed in his life.

“I am a maid,” she said with a shrug. “Married near three weeks and my husband cannot claim me.”

“Then the marriage can be ended,” he blurted out without thinking.

“And who would do that?” she asked him with a raised brow. “Will Renly do that and watch my father’s men and fortune ride away from him? Will I do that and give up on being queen? I will be a _good_ queen, Robb. I know I will be.”

“I believe you,” he said softly, sadly.

“Renly is good to me, he treats me well,” she said. “He would even allow me -” she cut off, shaking her head. “Forgive me, I almost said too much.”

“Have you not already?” Robb questioned her. “You have told me that Renly will likely die childless. What will happen to the kingdoms then? Will the North expect an invasion from whoever succeeds, or can I rest easy knowing they will uphold our agreement?”

“Oh, Gods,” Margaery almost moaned, putting her hand to her mouth. “I am so stupid. I should not have said anything. I know better than this, what am I doing? What in the name of the Gods am I doing?!”

“Margaery, stop!” he took another step forwards, placing his cup down on the table before moving both his hands to settle on her upper arms.

She moved her own hand from her mouth then, hesitating for a moment before she seemed to move it incredibly slowly towards his chest. His heart pounded against his ribcage and his eyes could not move from hers. He opened his mouth, as though he would warn her, but closed it again as she leant an inch closer to him. She was too close now, far too close. Rationality was seeping from him as quickly as blood seeped from a wound. He swallowed hard, inwardly begged the Gods to forgive him, and then crashed his lips against hers.

Thundering hooves dragged him back to his senses after seconds that felt like lifetimes. Somehow, he wrenched his lips from her soft sweetness, seeing her wide eyes and ragged breath as he did so. There were shouts outside the tent now, and Robb knew he had to get out there. Something had clearly happened, and he ought to find out what. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to say to the woman before him. The vision before him who was another man’s wife and queen. By the Gods, what had he been thinking? She had kissed him back though, hadn’t she?

“There is a back entrance, no one will see you, they will be too busy seeing what news the messengers have brought,” she told him evenly, and he blinked stupidly.

“Thank you,” he said, feeling even more stupid, and she inclined her head politely to him.

He had no choice then but to walk to the back of her tent and find the small slit in the canvas where he could sneak away. It was near pitch black now, no torches lit here behind the queen’s tent. He crossed the gap between her tent and Renly’s, skirting around his tent until he could round the corner and look as though he had just come from the main encampment of men.

Renly was stood outside his tent with Loras as the small party of scouts approached him. Robb quickened his pace and Renly turned, clearly sensing his approach. He felt a wave of guilt crash through him as Renly offered him a smile, albeit a slightly strained one. Clearly he had not been expecting this party, and that usually meant bad news.

“You have impeccable timing,” Renly commented as Robb came to stand beside him.

“It appears so,” Robb agreed. “Were you not expecting them?”

“No,” he confirmed, looking troubled. “What news?!” he called as they drew closer.

“Your Grace,” the lead man dropped to one knee for a moment before straightening up and fidgeting with his hands. “We have news from Storm’s End, your Grace. Stannis has – has – laid siege to Storm’s End, your Grace.”

“Storm’s End?” Renly repeated incredulously.

“Yes, your Grace,” the messenger confirmed.

“Then it is lucky we are on our way there!” Renly clapped his hands together and exclaimed in what Robb could only assume was a falsely jovial voice. “Rest tonight, we will be leaving at dawn tomorrow.”

“Yes, your Grace. Thank you, your Grace,” the messenger bowed again before backing away several feet before he and his companions turned and scurried off into the darkness.

“How far away are the rest of your Northmen?” Renly asked as they disappeared.

“My last note from the Greatjon estimates them only a few hours behind us,” Robb told him, and Renly nodded, his expression thoughtful.

“We are only two days ride from Storm’s End, if we halt earlier tomorrow evening then your men ought to be able to catch up with us,” Renly said, and Robb nodded his agreement.

“I will write to the Greatjon and make sure of it,” he assured the older man.

“There is always the chance that Stannis doesn’t know the Northmen have joined us,” Loras spoke up.

“Yes…” Renly nodded distractedly. “Yes, you’re right. There may be a chance. Call the lords together, Loras, now. Robb, when we reach Storm’s End I ask that you take down your banners. Best Stannis doesn’t know of our alliance.”

“I agree,” Robb nodded as Loras strode off into the night. “Would you have me stay for the meeting?”

“It will only be a short talk tonight,” Renly said. “We will speak properly when we halt tomorrow. There will be much to plan while we wait for your men.”

“Aye, as you wish,” Robb agreed.

“I would suggest you get some rest,” Renly said, clapping him on the back.

“Aye,” he agreed again. “I would suggest you try and do the same.”

* * *

Since Robb had left Margaery had only managed to sink into a chair, her leg jumping almost violently up and down. By the Gods, she was so foolish. How could she have been so foolish? It was not the kiss that had been playing on her mind, it was the fact that she had admitted to him that Renly was unable to bed her. What a stupid, stupid thing to do. Robb had been right, it undermined the alliance to say the least. His sense of assurance that the North would remain independent for his children and his children’s children had been severely undermined, and all because she could not keep her big mouth shut.

Her grandmother would be furious. Renly would be furious. Just as she thought that the canvas entrance of her tent was pulled aside and her husband appeared. She looked up at him and swallowed hard. She could feel guilt welling up inside her and she was so angry with herself because she knew it was showing on her face. Her grandmother had always taught her to conceal her emotions, hide behind a perfect mask. She had been so sure she was good at it, that she knew what she was doing. Now she was questioning everything. Damn Robb Stark. Damn Renly. Damn all of them.

“What was it?” she asked her husband, irritated when her voice shook.

“What’s happened?” he asked in return, ignoring her question.

“I said too much, to Robb,” she didn’t see the point in hiding it. Renly groaned.

“It doesn’t matter now, we have more pressing matters,” he said, surprising her.

“What?” she asked him, getting to her feet now.

“Stannis is laying siege to Storm’s End,” he told her.

“Fool,” she almost hissed.

“Quite,” Renly agreed. “He cannot hope to best me in the field, but he can diminish my numbers. I will defeat him if I must, but it would be best if he can be persuaded to go away. Given that we are riding into danger, I wonder if it is not best that you remain here where it is safe.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I will come with you, you are right, you outnumber Stannis and you have the northern army set to join you. You would have to leave men behind here to guard me, and anyone might hear of it. Best we all remain together.”

“And are you eager to remain at my side, or Robb Stark’s?” he asked her.

“Are you jealous?” she shot back.

“No,” he sighed.

“No,” she agreed. “As I am not jealous of my brother. We are all on the same side, Renly, now stop being ridiculous.”

“Has something happened?” he asked.

“Why would you ask that?” she demanded.

“You told him about me for a reason, Margaery,” he returned.

“I didn’t tell him everything,” she protested.

“But you told him enough, I imagine,” he guessed astutely. “Enough for him to know that I do not share your bed.”

“I didn’t tell him about Loras,” she whispered.

“But no doubt someone will, when he starts asking questions,” Renly said bitterly.

“He’s still here, isn’t he?” she said defiantly. “Robb has not judged you. If he had he would be gone by now. He knows you are his best hope, and so he will remain with you.”

“With me?” he raised a brow. “Or with you?”

“You said -” she began heatedly.

“I know what I said!” Renly snapped at her. “I gave you permission to take a lover, so long as you were _discreet_! Do you think it discreet to tell him of my preference?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Margaery protested. “I was upset, he happened upon me at a bad time and I said too much. I am sorry, Renly, please, would you forgive me?”

“I know what I am putting you through,” his tone was softer now. “But you need to be more careful.”

“I will be,” she promised him, meeting his eyes and she saw in them that it was forgiven already.

“So,” his lips quirked up slyly on one side. “What was he like?”

“It was just a kiss,” she blushed, averting her eyes.

“There is much power in a kiss,” Renly said teasingly.

“Yes,” she agreed, swallowing hard.

“Oh, Margaery,” he looked at her with such sympathy that she almost burst into tears right there and then.

“Don’t,” she bid him, her voice shaking.

“I have never regretted marrying you more than I do in this moment,” he looked truly shamed. “Just remember what I said, about being discreet – and careful.”

She could only nod. She was tired of denying it to him and herself that she wanted more. No longer did she have the will to protest his permission. Right or wrong she wanted more than Renly could give her and her husband had repeatedly given her his blessing. He smiled at her then, his eyes warm again despite his earlier moment of anger with her. For a moment they just looked at one another, then Renly came forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

Margaery clung to him for a long time, trying to take strength from him and regain the composure she had always been taught to maintain. Renly kissed her firmly on top of her head before releasing her, a sad little smile on his lips. “I am sorry,” he told her meaningfully.

“I know,” she nodded, and with that he turned on his heel and walked out of her tent.


	4. No Going Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apolgies for the wait! Hopefully your patience will be sufficiently be rewarded by this chapter - I think it may possibly be the longest chapter I've ever written!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, and thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, it's so appreciated.
> 
> :)

 

Robb was in turmoil. He had not slept in days, and now they were setting up camp around Storm’s End and he had not been able to focus at all in the strategic meeting. His lords had joined him now, at least, so he knew that they would have been paying attention where he could not. He knew he needed to pull himself together, but Margaery had been avoiding him and he had been too craven to try and visit her tent again at night. No doubt he had offended her, stepped over the line when he had swooped in and kissed her. After it had happened he had been so sure that she had kissed him back, but now with her keeping her distance from him he was starting to doubt his previous certainty.

At least he did not have to ride out with Renly to speak with Stannis. Renly was of the opinion that it was best that Robb and his men remain here in the camp. He was still hoping that Stannis would not have heard about their alliance and so there were no wolf banners in camp and no men bearing a direwolf sigil anywhere near the front lines of the siege. Robb and his men were hidden away in the heart of the camp. It felt wrong, not being properly involved with the talks with Stannis, but it could not be helped for the time being. If Stannis did know about the alliance then Renly seemed of the opinion that he would no doubt mention it.

Robb almost found himself hoping that Stannis did know, though he knew that it would probably be better if he did not. It was more frustration than anything, knowing he would be sat here in camp within mere feet of Margaery’s company with Renly not in the vicinity. The temptation to go to her was piqued, and he didn’t know whether he would be able to resist. Guilt mingled with desire and he could not seem to escape any of it. He looked towards Renly’s tent as the man himself emerged in his shining armour, crown set atop his head. Obviously, he was trying to make a point, and Robb couldn’t help but admire it. Renly was thoroughly unashamed at usurping his elder brother, so sure was he that he was making the right decision. Robb glanced towards Margaery’s tent again, wishing he knew what the right decision was.

He moved his gaze back to Renly in the next moment, and the older man caught his eye and nodded, a grim smile on his face. Robb inclined his own head in response and tried to smile in return. He was quite certain it had come out as a grimace but Renly did not seem to mind, turning away in the next moment and walking confidently towards where his horse and men were waiting for him. Robb took a deep breath, praying inwardly that the meeting would go well. He did not hold out any hope for a reconciliation between the brothers, but a meeting without bloodshed or the promise of a battle come the morning would be preferable.

Robb heard Renly give the order to move off in the next moment and his stomach tensed. A battle in the morning suddenly seemed inevitable, and the Gods only knew if he would survive it. He looked towards Margaery’s tent, all the unsaid things between them flying around his head. There was no way he could leave it like this, he would have to speak with her, now, while the heart of camp was quiet and Renly otherwise engaged. He only needed to speak with her, it did not necessarily mean that anything else would happen between them.

His heart pounded as he approached the tent, his paranoia peaking as he glanced from side to side to make sure no one was keeping an eye on him. He saw no one, though he kept a wary eye out for his mother. Thankfully she had been keeping mostly to her own tent lately, Robb almost certain that she was doing so to avoid Lady Olenna. He couldn’t blame her, he had barely escaped unscathed from an impromptu conversation with her at dinner the previous night. She had a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue that she did not seem to mind lashing him with. Him and anyone else who crossed her path.

He shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on Lady Olenna, not when Margaery’s tent was looming up large ahead of him. He swallowed hard before calling her name, the craven part of him almost hoping that she would not respond to him. She did, calling for him to come in, though he could have sworn he heard a slight nervousness in her reply. Strangely he took heart from it, the thought that she was as confused and as on edge as he was.

Another deep breath and he pulled the canvas entrance aside and stepped into her tent. She turned to face him, her expression nervous and pale. Her eyes were almost wary as he took a few more steps towards her and he halted. The last thing he wanted was to get to close to her and put her even more on edge. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not even sure what he wanted or needed to say to her. She took a few more steps towards him and he swallowed hard.

“I thought you would never come,” she whispered, and in the blink of an eye her lips were on his.

It was heaven. The feel and taste of her in his mouth was heaven. It blew every other kiss he had ever had in his life from his mind, and he did not want it to end. He did not want to stop kissing her, because if he stopped kissing her then they would have to exchange words. He would feel the need to apologise to her, and he did not want to do so because he was not sorry. All the guilt he had felt before had melted as soon as her lips had met his. This time _she_ had initiated this. _She_ had kissed him, and the knowledge of that made him feel as though he were flying.

He knew, though, somewhere in the back of his mind that it would have to stop, so with a wrench he pulled away from her. To draw breath as much as anything. He was almost gasping as he looked down on her, and he could see from the rapid rise and fall of her chest that she was as breathless as he was. Her eyes were wide and shining, her lips still slightly parted from their heated kiss. He blinked, searching his swimming head for the right words to say but coming up with nothing.

“You don’t know what to say,” Margaery was as astute as ever.

“No,” he agreed with her, his muscles tensing.

“Renly…” she started, frowning slightly and looking a little wary. “Renly is… _willing_ , for me to…to…find happiness elsewhere, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It had crossed my mind,” Robb admitted, a frown creasing his own brow.

“This doesn’t have to be any more than you want it to be,” she whispered. “But…if it’s Renly you are worried about, you needn’t. I just wanted you to know that.”

“So…what are you saying?” Robb asked her slightly awkwardly.

“I’m married,” she told him bluntly. “You are betrothed. You and I will never be together, permanently…but…why should we not enjoy one another while we have the chance?”

“You…mean…?” he hardly dared hope.

“We could be lovers, Robb,” she told him slowly and he felt desire stir him like never before.

“Is that what you want?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said simply, and he snatched her towards him again and devoured her lips once more.

It was more intense this time, now that Robb knew that she was allowing him more. Somewhere deep down he knew how very wrong it was, that even if Renly had given his blessing it did not make it right. It was easy to push it aside though, with Margaery in his arms, his hands gripping her silk covered hips. She pressed herself closer to him, and he knew he would not be able to resist pushing her towards the bed for much longer. As though she read his thoughts she took a half stumbled step back and his stomach clenched in a knot.

“Margaery!”

He pulled away at once, and Margaery stared towards the entrance of her tent with wide eyes. It was only for a second, before she snapped her head back towards him as he pulled his hands away from her. “Go!” she hissed quietly, and he hurried to the back entrance as quickly as he could without making noise. He had recognised that voice, the formidable tone of Lady Olenna. His heart was pounding as he pulled the entrance aside and half stepped out before looking back to Margaery.

“Tonight,” she mouthed at him, and despite his panic he grinned before scarpering as she called out calmly for her grandmother to come in.

* * *

“Fancy seeing you here, brother,” Renly smiled amiably at Stannis. He got nothing in return, just a stony expression and a cold stare. “I wish you would have let me know you were coming,” he continued. “I would have made sure to be home. Though, you seem to have made yourself rather comfortable.”

“As have you, with the title of king,” Stannis said coldly.

“It does rather suit me, don’t you think?” Renly raised a brow.

“You have no right, Renly,” Stannis sounded exasperated. “You are my _younger_ brother, and it is your _duty_ to support me in this. I am the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms, and you will march behind me and do my bidding as I always did Robert’s. You don’t have to like it, but you will do it, as you should.”

“You see the problem with that, brother,” Renly began. “Is that you are assuming people actually _want_ you on the Iron Throne. You can see that I outnumber you, that I have far more support than you could ever hope to have. Best you give up this little desire, Stannis. No man wants you for their king, not after your little escapades on Dragonstone.”

“What are you talking about?” Stannis narrowed his eyes.

“I was surprised to hear you had found religion, brother,” Renly said lightly. “And even more surprised to hear you had burned the Gods.”

“False Gods,” a woman swathed in red spoke up from Stannis’ side. “King Stannis is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and he will bring the one true God to Westeros. It is time this world stepped out from the darkness, and into the light.”

“And by light, do you mean fire?” Renly raised a brow. “I hear you’re fond of fire. So, this is her, is it, brother? Now I understand your new fascination with religion.”

“Renly -” Stannis began warningly.

“You can’t best me brother, you and I both know it,” Renly cut across him. “So, by all means stay another night, but you really ought to leave in the morning and move on. You see, I’m back now. Thank you for looking after my home for me, but I need it back, I’m sure you understand.”

“I will give _you_ until the morning, Renly, to come to your senses and bend the knee to me,” Stannis returned in exasperation. “Do your duty as my younger brother, and I will name you my heir, until I have a son – of course.”

Stannis glanced towards the Red Woman at that point and Renly narrowed his eyes as she smirked at Stannis, her gaze lingering on him. It seemed she desired more than just a new religion for Westeros. “High ambition, my lady,” Renly said in a quiet aside to her and she gazed back evenly.

“See you tomorrow, brother,” Renly turned to Stannis. “Be sure to polish your armour.”

* * *

Margaery gnawed on her nails, her leg jumping up and down as each minute seemed to tick by more slowly than the last. It had been at least two hours since Renly had returned to camp and immediately called a war council meeting. She had been grateful for his reappearance especially since it saved her from her grandmother’s company for the entirety of the afternoon. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her grandmother’s company, it was just that she could not trust herself not to give herself away over her feelings for Robb.

Because she did have feelings. She had admitted it now and there was no taking it back. Gods, his lips on hers… She remembered her brother Garlan’s squire back at Highgarden. He had been her first kiss, clumsy and fluttering. Then, Renly, unwilling and almost afraid of her. Now, Robb… By the Gods, he was something else entirely, something she had never had and never expected to have after being wed to Renly. She had her husband’s permission, though, strange as it was. So, there really was no need for her to be sitting here feeling so guilty.

It did not subside, though, the guilt. If anything it seemed to build the longer she sat waiting. She knew that her worries and attention should be focused on the coming battle with Stannis. On his return Renly had stayed just long enough to tell her that there would be fighting come morning, but that she would be safely guarded. Her grandmother had stayed only a moment longer than Renly, she was joining the war council whether the men approved or not. _I cannot leave your father alone in there to make some heroic, moronic suggestion. My family must be intact when this is over._

That final piece seemed to haunt Margaery. _My family must be intact when this is over._ What was she thinking? Even with Renly’s permission she was still going against everything her family expected of her. It was her duty to share her husband’s bed, and bear his child. She wasn’t stupid, no matter how careful she and Robb were, there was still a chance she could end up with his child inside her. Margaery shuddered then. What would happen to her family if that happened? What would happen to her? To Robb? To the child?

Was it really worth the risk?

“Sorry,” his hushed apology came from the back entrance of her tent and she stood up at once.

“You’re here,” she said stupidly, and he smiled widely.

Gods. That smile. All the doubts that had just risen up by that smile coupled with the look in his eyes. He was truly glad to see her, to be in her company. He truly wanted her, not for power and not for gain, but just for her. No matter how stupid and reckless this was, Margaery knew there was no way she could stop it now. Nor did she think she wanted to.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” he said softly, coming closer to her and making her heart pound.

“You’re forgiven,” she managed a broken whisper before he claimed her lips.

Her stomach clenched at once as he slipped a hand through her hair and deepened their kiss. It was all too easy with him, she didn’t even have to think. She could think of nothing but him in this moment, as though the rest of the world and the troubles within it melted away the moment his lips touched hers. He was steering her back towards her bed now and she clutched him closer, her heart pounding as she prayed that no one would interrupt them for a second time.

* * *

“Most men prefer a woman before battle,” Loras said, and Renly turned and smiled at him.

“I am not most men,” Renly returned, and Loras smiled widely.

“I saw Robb, earlier, he went to see Margaery when you weren’t here,” Loras told him then, his smile fading. Renly shrugged.

“Why should he not?” he asked.

“Because she is your wife,” Loras frowned.

“And I am her husband, yet here I am with you,” Renly said patiently.

“Are you telling me you _know?_ ” Loras looked aghast.

“There is nothing to know, it is Margaery’s business. What she chooses to tell me of it is up to her,” Renly said, prickled.

“Are you mad?! You cannot risk him getting her with child!” Loras chided him.

“Hush!” Renly hissed at him. “Margaery is not that foolish. Why should she not enjoy herself?”

“You really are a fool sometimes! If I have noticed then there is only a matter of time before somebody else does. Before the _wrong_ person does,” Loras sounded desperate. “Think of what you would be forced to do then! She would be guilty of treason against you and your lords would not allow you to just let her get away with it! For the love of the Gods, Renly! I will not let this happen to my sister!”

“Nothing with happen to her!” Renly tried to soothe him, rubbing his hands up and down his upper arms firmly.

“You need to take it back, tell her to stop, before this goes too far,” Loras whispered fearfully.

“I’ll speak to her tomorrow,” Renly promised. “But let her have tonight, as we have tonight…”

* * *

Robb could scarcely believe what was happening as he straddled Margaery’s hips, his fingers trailing down her collarbone and beginning to unhook the clasps that held her dress together. Margaery’s chest was rising and falling rapidly beneath his touch as he revealed more of her creamy, smooth skin. Her own hands came up to the lacings of his doublet as he leant in closer to her to pull her bodice apart. For a moment there he had to stop and stare, her perfect breasts exposed fully to his gaze.

“Are you alright?” she asked him shyly, and he nodded.

“You are just…so…beautiful,” he whispered, and she smiled widely up at him, pulling more insistently on his laces.

He helped her with them and in a moment his doublet came open and he shrugged it from his shoulders. Margaery was looking up at him with wide eyes, biting gently on her lower lip. He smiled to hide his nervousness as his hands trembled slightly when he moved them to pull his tunic up over his head.

Margaery slipped her hands down his bare stomach then, and he shuddered as her fingers deftly unwound the laces of his breeches. He was painfully hard, and he did his best to swallow the lump in his throat as she released him from his confines. Her touch made him groan and he could only stand her hands on him for a moment before he pulled back away from her. For a moment she looked startled, but when he moved his own hands to pull up her skirts the smile came back to her face.

Her legs came apart as he slowly exposed them, and he bit down on his lip. Never before had he come this close to a woman. Gods, he hoped he would not disappoint her. She was glorious, and all he wanted to do was satisfy her as she was bound to satisfy him. Her skirts were around her waist now and he nestled himself between her legs, his lips seeking out hers again. Their kiss was more frantic now, and he could feel the heat between her thighs as he rubbed himself against her.

Something between a gasp and a moan left her then, and he trailed his lips away from hers and down her soft neck. She arched her head back to give him better access and his ears were full of the sound of her heavy breathing. If anything the sound just made him desire her even more.

“Margaery,” he gasped against her neck. “I…cannot…”

“Neither can I,” she almost moaned back. “Please, Robb, I need you now.”

He could do nothing but obey.

* * *

They had barely touched when Renly’s squire called out that he had visitors. Loras stepped away from him with a scowl and Renly sighed regretfully before calling for them to be allowed in. It was Lord Bryce Caron and Ser Donnel Swann, and they bowed lowly to him as they came into the tent.

“My lords!” Renly greeted jovially. “I had assumed you would both be resting before the battle.”

“There was word from the Iron Islands, your Grace,” Ser Donnel said, stepping forwards.

“What is this?” Renly took the letter that was offered to him.

“Balon Greyjoy is intent on making our lives more complicated,” Lord Caron huffed.

“I see,” Renly said wryly as he read through the letter. “Another king, how many is that now?”

“Five?” Loras offered from where he was stood pouring wine.

“Too many, your Grace,” Lord Caron said.

“Two is all we need, would you not agree, my lord?” Renly raised his brow and took the cup that Loras offered out to him.

“Yes, of course,” came the reply.

“Then shall we drink to it,” Renly held his cup out. “To the King in the South and the King in the North, and to a great victory at sunrise!”

“A great victory and a great alliance!” Ser Donnel knocked his cup against Renly’s.

Lord Caron and Loras repeated the sentiment and the action and then all four men drank deeply from their cups. Renly could feel his nerves churning now but he had to admit that the greater part of him was excited. He had never fought in a battle before, tourneys and hunts were the closest he had ever come before. This would be different, he knew his lords and men would be watching carefully to see how he would perform against his seasoned brother. He was not relishing a fight with his brother, but he had been left no choice.

“Your victory is all but assured, of course, your Grace,” Ser Donnel spoke up.

“I can only hope so,” Renly smiled. “Though, I have something here that may help ensure it.”

“Your Grace?” Lord Caron looked politely confused.

“He has had a new sword made,” Loras said, and Renly could tell, even though he had turned away to fetch the sword, that he was rolling his eyes.

“Not just any sword, the finest I have ever seen,” Renly corrected with a grin.

He moved further into his tent to where he had left the sword laying on the dresser. He wrapped his hand around the hilt and lifted it up. At the same time his eyes raised to the mirror atop the dresser and he froze as a shadow-man seemed to wrap itself around him.

* * *

Margaery was panting uncontrollably as Robb continued kissing her neck, her legs shifting up higher around his waist as he continued to rock into her. His pace was so gentle, she had barely felt more than a sting when he had taken her maidenhead. Robb’s hand gripped her thigh harder as her own hands pinched around his upper arms. He gasped out himself, pulling away from her neck, his brow creased into a frown as he continued to thrust.

“Oh – Gods, I -,” he stammered out and she pushed him back.

He groaned again in sheer relief in the next moment and she felt his release hot across her stomach. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her piqued nerves and still her swimming head. Gods, she put her hands up to her head. That had been so indescribably wonderful. More wonderful than she had ever imagined it could be.

Robb looked sheepish as she looked up at him and she couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the look on his face. He looked relieved at her reaction, pulling his tunic back towards him and wiping her stomach gently with it. When he was done he looked uncertain, and she reached out for him instinctively. He smiled widely then, nestling back down against her and smothering her face with kisses.

“You are incredible,” he murmured as she wrapped her arms happily around his torso.

“I wish this night could last forever,” she whispered in his ear, tears unexpectedly pricking her eyes.

* * *

A gargled splutter drew Loras’ attention and he turned towards Renly, his eyes widening. For a moment he could have sworn he saw –

“Your Grace!” Lord Caron moved more swiftly than he, as did Ser Donnel, both of them reaching their king before Loras had taken more than two steps. Loras could only stare as he saw the man he adored being lowered to the ground, choking on his own blood.

“Your Grace?!” Ser Donnel was panicked.

“Hush, he is trying to say something!” Lord Caron half-snapped.

That got Loras moving, dropping down at Renly’s side as the three of them stared at him hopelessly. There was blood seeping from his chest and dribbling down his chin, but there was light still in his eyes. He spluttered again, his eyes wide and insistent as he grabbed at Lord Caron, who was closest to him.

“Trust -,” Renly coughed, blood spraying from his mouth. “Robb – follow – him.”

And with that there was no more. Renly stared up without seeing, no more rasping breathing in his throat and no more light in those pale blue orbs. Loras wanted to scream and shout and beat his fists against Renly’s chest but he could do nothing but stare. He knew, even in this moment of grief, that he could do nothing to draw any more unwanted attention.

“What happened?” Ser Donnel asked, aghast.

“How could anyone have done this without us seeing?!” Lord Caron demanded.

“They couldn’t have,” Ser Donnel shook his head firmly.

“They didn’t,” Loras said tonelessly. “This was Stannis, his witch. I would stake my life on it. He knew he could never best Renly in the field, and so he has used his sorceress to end him like this. The _coward!_ He cannot get away with this…”

“We need to call the Septon, and the Silent Sisters,” Lord Caron said.

“What about what he said, about Robb Stark?” Ser Donnel asked, and Lord Caron seemed to falter.

“Last words are not always right words,” Lord Caron said.

“But they were his last words,” Loras snapped. “It is what he wanted. The Capital can still be taken if we can keep all the banners together. If we do not find a new leader then the Storm lords will flock to Stannis, or the Lannisters.”

“House Swann will follow neither of those traitorous houses,” Ser Donnel said defiantly.

“We need to speak to Stark, before anything is agreed,” Lord Caron said grudgingly.

“I will send for him,” Ser Donnel said.

“No,” Loras rose to his feet. “I will fetch him. You ought to get the Septon, if you would stay here with – Renly, my lord.”

“I will,” Lord Caron nodded.

“We will meet in the war tent,” Loras said distractedly, looking back towards Renly laying there motionless once more before he strode from the tent. He knew exactly where he would find Robb Stark, and that was the precise reason he had elected to find him himself. This needed to be fixed now. He could mourn Renly later, but right now he needed to secure his sister’s future and the future of this war.

He did not announce his arrival as he came upon Margaery’s tent. His suspicions needed confirming, and confirmed they were as he ripped aside the canvas entrance. Margaery shrieked, and Stark was immediately rolling away from her and snatching up his sword belt.

“Loras! What are you doing?!” Margaery demanded, pulling her bodice hurriedly closed.

“I would ask you the same thing,” he returned icily. “Though it is entirely obvious.”

“You don’t understand,” she got up from the bed, fastening her dress. “Renly said I could -”

“Renly’s dead,” Loras choked out, and her eyes widened. He could say no more, though he could see her mouth forming questions he could not hear them. In the next moment he stepped forward, tears blinding him as he fell into his sister’s waiting arms. She smoothed her hands up and down his back, her voice soft in his ear though he still could not hear what she was saying to him.

“Loras,” finally he heard her. “Loras, please. How did this happen? What happened to him?”

“He was murdered,” Loras said darkly, pulling away from her.

“But how?!” she demanded, aghast.

“Who was there?!” Stark was demanding now, coming closer now he was clothed again.

“Myself, Lord Caron and Ser Donnel,” Loras answered him automatically.

“Then, who?” Margaery whispered, her eyes scared.

“We saw no one, no one real, at any rate,” Loras told her.

“What?” she was shaking her head, looking utterly confused.

“I can only describe it as an evil spirit,” Loras said. “And I am certain I know who conjured it.”

“Stannis,” Stark almost hissed.

“Who else? He knew he would not be able to defeat Renly in battle, so he has killed him in cowardice and cold blood in the hopes that his armies will scatter and the Storm lords will flock to him,” Loras said. “I will kill him for this.”

“By the Gods,” there were tears streaking down Margaery’s face now. “What will happen now?”

“We cannot let Stannis get what he wants,” Loras said urgently, looking towards Stark. “Renly said something, just before he died. I heard it, and so did the others. They are good men and they will vouch for it, swear it to the others.”

“What did he say?” Stark asked.

“He told them to trust you, to follow you,” Loras said.

“Me?!” he looked bewildered. “But…I do not even want the Iron Throne, and the Storm lords have no loyalty to me – neither does Highgarden.”

“Part of Highgarden does,” Loras said, glancing at Margaery. “And perhaps that is the only part we need.”

“What are you saying?” Stark frowned.

“You and Margaery,” Loras said simply.

“Renly has just been murdered and you want me to take his wife?!” he sounded angry now.

“You have already taken her!” Loras snapped. “Renly may have allowed it but Renly is gone and you cannot take it back now! Will you really leave her shamed?!”

“I want to see Renly,” Margaery spoke up quietly.

“What?” Loras asked.

“Go and make your plans!” she snapped. “I want to see Renly.”

* * *

Margaery could not quite believe what she was seeing. The Silent Sister’s had come and laid him out along the table in his tent. It didn’t seem right, him just lying there in such simplicity. Renly had been a king, surely more should have been done for him. There should be more…

She moved closer to him, her hand shaking as she reached it out to touch his. Her eyes welled with tears as she felt his skin still faintly warm. She felt guilty for the tears. She had no right to shed them, not really. While she had been fond of Renly and enjoyed his company greatly she was not in love with him. Had never been in love with him. Loras had. It was her brother’s right to be the chief mourner when Renly was laid to rest, but Margaery knew she would be the one afforded the honour. It wasn’t fair. She had been with another man when Renly was being murdered. She had no right.

Margaery closed her eyes tightly to stop the tears from leaking out. She took deep, shaking breaths and willed herself not to cry. Loras needed her to be strong. Her whole family would need her to be strong. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes, gazing on Renly’s still features. What Loras had told them spun around and around in her head as she looked at his body. Was it true? Had Renly truly meant for the Storm lords to follow Robb in his stead? Would they? Was there really a chance that she and Robb could be together, properly, and without sin?

She shook her head. It was wrong to even think that way in this moment when she was here with her dead husband. But…hadn’t Renly actively encouraged her to be with Robb? Had he not wanted her to be happy despite their marriage? She took another shaking breath and took a step back from Renly, jumping when she felt hands on her shoulders.

"It’s me,” Loras said quietly, and she turned slowly to face him.

“What’s happening?” she asked him.

“Robb is with the Storm lords,” he told her, and she nodded. “I don’t think the meeting will go on for much longer. Robb wants to speak with his own lords, they have all agreed another meet tomorrow evening. Things need to be put in place before then.”

“What things?” she asked him suspiciously.

“Robb will look like more of an attractive prospect to the Storm lords if he has Highgarden on his side,” he said calmly.

“So I am to be bartered into another marriage with no regard for my own feelings. Renly is not even cold yet. How can you say things like this, you of all people?” she hissed at him.

“Because I know the alternative!” he grabbed her shoulders almost painfully.

“What alternative?” she asked him fearfully.

“Petyr Baelish arrived earlier this afternoon,” Loras said. “He went to see Lady Stark with a _goodwill_ gesture from the Capital.”

“What?” Margaery frowned slightly.

“Lord Stark’s remains,” he said uneasily and she couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath. “But now he is here and you can bet he will try and use Renly’s death to his advantage.”

“How?” her frown deepened.

“He serves the Lannisters,” Loras said. “Imagine the reward he would get for bringing the wealth of Highgarden back into the fold. We have been named traitors from the moment we declared our support for Renly, with him dead we are in trouble. If we were to help the Lannisters against Stannis and Robb then all would be forgiven, and there would be one sure way of the alliance being sealed. A wedding…”

“No,” Margaery shook his head. “No, I cannot marry that…that…monster. You have heard the tales of him!”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “Which is why we need to support the alternative. We need to back Robb.”

“You heard him, he doesn’t want the Iron Throne,” she continued shaking her head.

“But he wants you,” Loras said. “And if anyone can change his mind about wanting it, it is you.”

“Father would have to agree, why would he agree? Joffrey is a safer option…” she hated to say it but it was true. Her father would take the easier option and bind them with the Lannisters. The thought of it made her feel sick.

“No,” he said firmly. “Father will not decide anything, grandmother will.”

“And you think she will be persuaded to Robb’s side?” she asked.

“I think _you_ can persuade her. You can show her that Robb is the best option,” he said.

“I don’t know what to do, Loras, all of this is just happening far too quickly,” she almost moaned. “I have no idea what to do! Gods…I…”

“Stop thinking about the family for a moment,” Loras told her. “Look me in the eye and tell me it wouldn’t be what you want. Tell me you don’t want _him._ Forget the war and forget everything that is still to come and just ask yourself; do you want him?”

“Yes,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Then you cannot do anything else,” he whispered back, wiping the tear from her cheek. “Tell Robb about the plan with Joffrey and he will not hear of it. He will marry you, and we can still salvage something from this. Grandmother will see things from your perspective, you just need to persuade her that you can convince Robb to take the Iron Throne.”

“It feels wrong, he doesn’t want it, Loras,” more tears were spilling down her cheeks now.

“What other choice do we have?” he asked desperately. “He could be a good king, and you will be the most wonderful queen. Together you can do this, Margaery. Trust me. Aside from everything else this could be your one chance to be truly happy.”

“This is a mess,” she choked.

“I know,” he agreed, folding her into his arms. “But you have the power to fix things, you just have to say the right things to the right people.”

* * *

Robb walked away from the war tent with his ears ringing. He had barely been able to concentrate as the Storm lords had all shouted over one another about what was the right thing to do. Through it he managed to gather that half of them were in favour of staying and following him, where the other half were muttering about joining Stannis. In the end Robb had called for a halt in proceedings. He had told them that it was too late into the night and too soon after Renly’s death to be making such decisions.

It was agreed, then, that Robb would meet with his own lords in the morning and then meet again with the Storm lords and the lords from the Reach in the afternoon. It was to his own tent he went now, his head spinning. He could not get what Loras had said out of his mind, and it was tempting despite the circumstances. He _could_ take Margaery as his wife, she was free now. _But you are not_ , a nagging voice sounded at the back of his head. It was true, he was still betrothed, but how could he ignore this opportunity? It was not just the chance at powerful and rich allies, but the chance at true happiness. Margaery lit up his days, his heart beating faster whenever he was in her presence. How could he pass up such a thing?

He decided then to speak with her in the morning, right now he needed sleep, and she doubtless needed time to come to terms with Renly’s death. He pulled the entrance to his tent aside and walked in, slumping down in a chair as soon as he was inside.

“Is it true?” his mother’s voice made him jump, and he snapped his head around to see her sat at his table. He sighed heavily, dropping his head into his hands.

“Renly is dead, if that is what you’re asking,” he told her dully.

“By the Gods,” she crossed the room to sit down opposite him. “What will we do?”

“Renly asked the Storm lords to follow me, his final words,” Robb told her tonelessly.

“Do you think they will?” she asked him, her eyes wide.

“Not me alone,” he said, his stomach churning.

“What do you mean?” she frowned at him.

“Highgarden could follow me, make it a more attractive prospect,” he said slowly.

“And why would they follow you?” he asked him suspiciously.

“Well they wouldn’t,” he swallowed hard. “Unless I take Margaery as my wife.”

“What?!” his mother stood up, looking furious. “You are already betrothed!”

“Betrothed is not married,” he said sheepishly.

“How can you even think of breaking this promise?” she asked him incredulously.

“I wouldn’t be, if Renly had not died, but…” he hesitated.

“But?” his mother asked him dangerously.

“But now I feel as though I have a duty to her,” he explained. “More than that, I…I want to.”

“What duty could you possibly have to her?” she demanded.

“I know I shouldn’t have -” he started.

“Oh, Robb! You fool!” his mother exclaimed. “She was a married woman!”

“And her husband took her brother for a lover!” Robb shot back, getting to his own feet. “He did not want her, he gave her his blessing to take a lover of her own.”

“And she chose you,” she snarled. “And now that Renly is dead you think you ought to marry her yourself to save her honour.”

“Not just because of that,” Robb shook his head. “I told you, I _want_ her.”

“This is a mistake,” his mother warned him.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But is a mistake that will make me happy. A mistake that could win me this war. A mistake that I want to make.”


	5. V: Sworn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for the comments and the kudos, it's much appreciated, you're all awesome to take time out to read this!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this new one!
> 
> :)

 

* * *

Margaery had not slept a wink all night. She had sat up in her chair with a cup of wine in her hand. It was still full, she had only managed a few sips all night. She knew she would have to get up eventually and see Robb. See her grandmother. She didn’t know which one she ought to see first. Did it matter? Loras seemed to think she could wrap both of them around her little finger. Loras seemed to think that it would be easy. She swallowed hard, looking at her cup of wine for a moment before raising it up to her lips and draining it down in one.

“Margaery!” the unmistakeable bark of her grandmother came from outside.

“Come in,” she sighed. It seemed the choice had been taken from her.

“Sleepless night?” her grandmother asked and she nodded. “I feel your pain, I have been entertaining Lord Baelish. He has some very interesting ideas.”

“And do these ideas involve me marrying Joffrey?” Margaery asked dully.

“How did you guess?” she asked crisply.

“Don’t make me marry him,” Margaery couldn’t help but burst into tears.

“Oh, come now,” her grandmother approached, kneeling before her despite her age and pulling her into an embrace. “Come now, child, hush. Hush, now.”

“Please, please don’t make me,” she choked on sobs. “There is another way, you just have to trust me.”

“And what way is that?” her grandmother pushed her back and met her eyes suspiciously.

“Robb,” Margaery whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

“That boy doesn’t want the Iron Throne,” came the dismissive answer.

“Yet,” Margaery said firmly, meeting her eyes.

“I knew I should have stamped out your friendship before now,” her grandmother sighed.

“It is more than a friendship,” Margaery whispered.

“Tell me you have not taken this too far,” she said warningly.

“I’m sorry, if I had known what would happen to Renly,” the tears began again.

“You fool,” her grandmother shook her head. “Do you have any idea how hard I am going to have to work to get your father to agree to this?”

“Agree?” Margaery wiped her tears away, hardly daring to believe.

“You will make that boy change his mind,” her grandmother said warningly. “You will be queen of the Seven Kingdoms, nothing less. He will take the Iron Throne, and our family will aid him.”

“It could take some time,” Margaery swallowed hard.

“Just make sure it gets done,” she said. “I will speak to your father, and you best speak to the Stark boy. You will have to stay away from one another after the announcement is made. We cannot have people whispering. You will observe a period of mourning, and in that time you will not go near him, do you understand?”

“I understand,” Margaery agreed.

“Good, now go and make sure he understands as clearly as you do.”

* * *

Robb had never felt such relief as he did when Margaery entered his tent. He was up at once, enveloping her in his arms. It had been his plan to seek her out but he had been putting it off, afraid that she would never consider his proposal. “Are you alright?” he murmured in her ear as he held her close to him. She nodded against him and he squeezed her tighter for a moment.

“I have just spoken with my grandmother,” Margaery said. “Lord Baelish had a proposal to put to her, a pardon for our family in return for aiding the Capital in the war against Stannis, and…you. To seal such a thing they want a marriage arranged between myself and… _Joffrey._ ”

“What?!” Robb’s heart pounded in his chest. “No, you cannot, that is madness! He is an abomination, Margaery, how can your family consider such a thing?!”

“Without Renly, we are lost,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“You cannot want this,” he shook his own head.

“Of course I don’t!” she burst out furiously, slapping his chest. “There is only one thing I want, now that Renly is gone. My grandmother was furious, but I had to tell her. Please don’t be angry with me, I had to do it, they would have forced Joffrey on me otherwise.” 

“What did you tell her?” he asked, stroking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“About you and I, the other night,” she whispered, and he took a deep breath.

“And?” he asked.

“And likely I said too much, I assumed…” she bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have assumed but I panicked, and now…I’m sorry, Robb. She is going to my father, to convince him that you would be the better man to follow. But, if he agrees then you know what he will demand – that you take me, as your wife.”

“That’s all I want,” he told her meaningfully, clasping her upper arms firmly.

“Truly?” she asked him, her eyes huge on his.

“I must speak with my lords, though I am sure they will approve,” he said.

“What about the Frey girl?” she asked fearfully.

“The Freys will be dealt with, somehow,” he sighed, pulling her against him again. “That is not for you to worry about, you are what I want.”

“I worry about your sister,” Margaery whispered against him.

“Sansa?” he questioned her.

“Yes,” she nodded against him. “They spoke so easily of Joffrey marrying me, when he is supposed to be betrothed to her. I know you would rather she not be, but you cannot deny that she is safest while still holding such a position. It worries me what would have happened to her if I had had to take her place.” 

“But you will not take her place,” Robb kissed the top of her head. “You will be my queen, and I will protect you, and when the time comes we will invade King’s Landing and free Sansa from him as well. I will not rest until I have all my family back and safe, and that will include you soon.”

“Yes,” she pulled back from him. “Soon, but until I have observed a period of mourning for Renly it would be unseemly for us to be seen together. We need to avoid whispers and rumours being spread about us. When the arrangement is made I must stay away from you, and you must stay away from me, until the wedding can take place.”

“I would marry you tomorrow,” he breathed.

“Yes,” she smiled, “but it would not be proper and you and I both know it.”

“Very well,” he sighed. “Well shall do it your way.”

“It will not be for long,” she assured him, “and then we can be together for the rest of our lives.”

“I cannot wait,” he said honestly, pressing his lips firmly against her forehead. “Perhaps you should leave the back way,” he smiled when he pulled back. “I ought to go and see my lords, they need to know about this arrangement. My mother will not approve, but I need them on my side.”

“And what if they are not?” she frowned.

“They will be,” he assured her. “They will not be able to deny that you are a far better match. They would be fools to insist I uphold my agreement with the Freys. Even if the Freys abandon me their number will be more than made up for with support from your family and the Storm lords.”

“I should let you get on,” she murmured, resting her head against his chest for a moment before pulling back. “I expect my father will keep me informed of arrangements from now on.”

“I expect so,” he agreed, reluctantly letting her go. “I only hope plans proceed quickly.”

“As do I,” she smiled at him before quickly making her way to the back entrance of the tent. She slipped out and he sighed as she disappeared from his sight. Gods, selfish as it was, he hoped her family would not insist on a long period of mourning. He knew they had to be respectful, but at the same time they were in the midst of a war. The sooner the agreement was finalised with a wedding, the sooner they could march on the Capital and end this.

Robb sighed when he was left alone. This was a huge risk, and he knew it. He could only hope that his lords would react better to his proposal than his mother had. There was only one way to find out, he supposed. “Olyvar?” he called out, and his squire appeared in the next moment.

“Yes, your Grace?” Olyvar asked politely.

“Gather the lords, it is time to sort out this mess,” Robb instructed him.

“Yes, your Grace,” he bobbed a short bow before heading out of the tent.

Robb poured himself a cup of wine when left alone, drinking it down steadily to try and work up his courage. His lords had followed him and trusted him this far. He could only hope that they could keep faith with him, and trust him once more. With a heavy sigh he drained his cup and slammed it down on the side table before he marched out of the tent and towards the smaller war tent with the direwolf banners flying above it.

It said a lot that all his lords were already present when he entered. Seemingly they were just as desperate for answers as he had been the night before. He had some sense of clarity now, but he needed them to confirm that he was indeed doing the right thing. They looked at him expectantly, and he tried a smiled. He was sure it came out as a grimace, but hopefully the action reassured them slightly as he marched around the table and took his seat as the head of it.

“My lords, thank you for gathering so promptly,” he began.

“Is it true our alliance is lost?” the Greatjon asked.

“Renly is dead, that much is true,” Robb told him, his confirmation followed by groans. “But that does not necessarily mean the alliance is dead. I have a proposition for you, my lords.”

“What is it?” Lord Karstark asked him.

“Renly’s dying words were to urge his men to follow me,” Robb began. “However, there are already mutterings that half of them would flock to Stannis. There is a chance we can stop them, if we can get Highgarden on our side.”

“What could we have to offer that would keep Highgarden with us?” the Greatjon frowned.

“In short, me,” Robb answered, and brows were raised around the table.

“What about the Frey girl?” Lord Bolton inquired.

“Hang the Frey girl!” the Greatjon boomed. “Do you know what the Tyrells can offer us?! I assume, your Grace, you mean to offer yourself as a husband to the widowed Margaery Tyrell?”

“Aye, I would, with your approval, my lords,” Robb said carefully. “I am mindful that we are in the midst of a war and that I have given my promise to Walder Frey. However, I cannot ignore the fact that marriage to Margaery would be far more prosperous, not just for myself, but for the North.”

“It would be foolish to pass on such an opportunity,” Lord Cerwyn said.

“Aye,” Lord Manderly agreed. “We will find a way to make peace with the Freys in time, but with Highgarden onside we would be a far more attractive prospect to the Storm lords.”

“I agree,” the Greatjon said, and Lord Flint nodded vigorously. “You should approach her father, your Grace, before this meet tonight.”

“Aye,” it was Robb’s turn to agree. “I intend to, and with the luck of the Gods we will keep this alliance intact and lose no more men.”

“If this alliance remains intact, what will be done about Stannis?” Lord Bolton asked. “They are saying it was his witch who murdered Renly, with some kind of shadow magic.”

“Blood magic, I heard,” Lord Flint said.

“Whatever the magic it is dangerous!” Lord Karstark spat. “What is to stop her trying to get rid of you in the same way, your Grace?!”

“Nothing,” Robb shrugged. “We can only hope it cannot happen again.”

“You would be safer with a son,” the Greatjon said.

“Aye,” Robb agreed. “Then the sooner my wedding is planned, the better.”

“Then best you go and see Mace Tyrell, and don’t take no for an answer!” the Greatjon boomed.

Robb did not need telling twice.

* * *

Catelyn sat at the back of the war tent seething as one by one the lords of the Reach and the Stormlands knelt before Robb and offered him their swords. In principle this was a good thing. He was increasing his own army by one hundred thousand. Even the Lannisters would not be able to stand against him with such a force. What he didn’t seem to understand, though, was that this was all coming at a cost. He did not understand, the way that she did, what Walder Frey may be capable of. All her life she had been warned that he was not a man to cross.

There would come a day, hopefully, when Robb would want to cross the Twins again. By breaking his promise to Walder Frey he was putting himself in danger when that day came. By doing this he was making a powerful enemy – far more powerful than he seemed to realise. Already he had shrugged off the inevitable loss of the Frey forces. Robb knew they would desert him but he did not care, because all he could see was the gain of Renly’s men, and the riches and armies of the Reach. He would get a beautiful, rich, wife and powerful allies.

What he didn’t seem to grasp was what it might cost him. Robb had been adamant that he only wanted to be King in the North. He didn’t seem to realise that that would not be enough for the Tyrells. They had not married the Rose of Highgarden to Renly only to have her end up as queen of only one kingdom. Catelyn would wager anything in this world that Robb’s pretty new wife would soon be whispering in his ear. What she would be whispering Catelyn knew all too well. _You are the right king for all the kingdoms, not just the North. You are the king the people deserve._

Margaery had something of her grandmother about her, and it scared Catelyn. It scared her because her son was marrying her primarily because he cared for her, her wealth and her family’s army was secondary. Robb was an honourable man who believed in love. She wondered if Margaery Tyrell believed in love, or if it was all ambition to her. Her son did not deserve such a thing. He may not have been happy to marry the Frey girl, but at least he would not have to worry about her scheming and plotting behind his back. Margaery was dangerous, but it seemed that Robb was completely blind to it.

“Thank you, my lords, all of you,” Robb stood now, his crown sat proudly atop his dark auburn curls. “Your support is invaluable to me. I swear to you here now, as your leader, that I will not rest until we have avenged the death of King Renly. I will not rest until we have broken the Lannisters’ unjust reign of torment. Until our families are all free and safe to sleep soundly in their beds at night. And to seal this alliance, in ten days from now I will take Margaery Tyrell as my wife, and we will celebrate a new beginning. But for now, my lords, it is time to mourn. Time to lay King Renly to rest with the dignity he deserves, and reflect on the legacy he has left behind.”

Robb stepped closer to the table and picked up his cup of wine. For a moment he seemed to hesitate before he lifted it high. “To King Renly,” he declared clearly. “Taken from the world too soon, he will be missed, and he will be avenged!”

“To Renly!” the cry was called out, cups lifted aloft. “To vengeance!”

Catelyn’s blood seemed to run cold as they rejoiced, the smile on Robb’s face doing nothing to soothe her. She was uneasy. She did not agree with what he was doing, even now with all these powerful men pledging their allegiance to him. Robb had called himself their leader, carefully avoiding the title of king. How long it would last she did not know. She lifted her own cup to her lips with a shaking hand and gulped down several mouthfuls of wine. The thought of her son being forced to sit the Iron Throne made her feel sick, but what made her even sicker was the fact that there was nothing she could think to do to stop it.

“I thought you would have been happier, dear,” Lady Olenna slid into the seat beside her.

“This all seems rather too good to be true,” Catelyn said honestly.

“I don’t suppose your son can believe his luck,” Lady Olenna said tartly. “He came here with twenty thousand men and a pact to marry a dowdy Frey girl. Now he will march away from here with one hundred and twenty thousand men, and a beautiful, rich, Tyrell bride.”

“Quite,” Catelyn said.

“But still, you seem unhappy, Lady Catelyn,” Lady Olenna. “What is it that displeases you so much? Do you not think my granddaughter good enough? I can assure you, Renly was never able to consummate the marriage if that’s what you’re worried about. Your son will be the only man who ever knows her.”

“That is not what troubles me,” Catelyn said. “I am sure your granddaughter will make my son very happy.”

“Then what troubles you?” Lady Olenna frowned.

“I do not think he should cross the Freys so lightly,” Catelyn told her.

“You think Walder Frey more formidable than I, dear?” she asked in amusement, and Catelyn couldn’t help a wry smile.

“It is not you that has crossed him though, is it?” Catelyn responded.

“We will be family soon, Catelyn. Your troubles will become my troubles,” she said, uncharacteristically serious. “The Gods only know, Walder Frey cannot possibly cause me as much irritation as my son does. Fear not, if he becomes a problem he will be swiftly dealt with, I can assure you of that.”

“Thank you,” Catelyn said, reassured but still somewhat uneasy.

“You’re welcome, dear,” she said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and let Margaery know that everything has been agreed. She will need a new gown for the wedding, it will not be seemly for her to wear the same one twice.”

* * *

Margaery did not know how her grandmother had managed it. If anything, the silks were even more beautiful than the ones that had been obtained for her marriage to Renly. She ran her hand along the fine ivory, unable to help the smile that came to her face.

“Do you like it, dear?” her grandmother asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Margaery breathed. “I will not ask how you managed to acquire it.”

“Best not,” she said crisply, coming closer and laying her own hand over Margaery’s. “I have also ordered a thousand pearls to be sewn into the bodice. It will be a push to get it done in time, but I will make sure it is.”

“You really don’t have to go to this much trouble,” Margaery said guiltily.

“Nonsense,” her grandmother said at once. “Just because this is your second wedding it does not make it any less important. If anything, this is more important, we cannot afford to lose again, Margaery.”

“Then we must pray Stannis does not resort to the same tactics as last time,” Margaery said.

“Quite,” her grandmother agreed. “You two!” she barked at the two handmaidens. “Take this silk to the seamstresses and have them begin work at once.”

“Yes, my lady,” the curtseyed in unison before carefully folding the reams of silk. With that they curtseyed again and Margaery offered them a smile before they went on their way.

“Now we are quite alone,” her grandmother commented. “You can tell me exactly what your feelings are about this marriage.”

“I want to marry him,” Margaery met her eyes as she said it. “This time it is what I truly want, but…with the war still raging I am afraid of what will come next. More than anything I just feel guilt.” 

“Guilt?” she frowned.

“This all seems so soon, after Renly I mean,” Margaery said, and her grandmother nodded her understanding. “I know it must be so, that it is all agreed upon, and as I said, I want it more than anything…”

“But?” her grandmother pressed and she sighed.

“I know I will soon be persuading my husband against his better judgement,” she confessed. “I know it will be more prosperous for him to become king of all seven kingdoms, but it doesn’t feel right to be considering coercing him in this way.”

“Who will seat the throne if he will not? You and he will only be safe if he obtains the ultimate power,” her grandmother insisted.

“I know that,” Margaery shook her head. “Though, even if we manage this, will we ever be safe?”

“You will if you surround yourself with the right people,” her grandmother soothed her. “And you will surround yourselves with the right people because _you,_ my dear are cleverer than you know, and Robb Stark does not seem entirely brainless.”

“High praise indeed, grandmother,” Margaery said wryly.

“He has more wits about him than Renly, I can give him that,” she said.

“Renly wasn’t stupid,” Margaery said reproachfully.

“He was in certain aspects of his life,” her grandmother said pointedly. “Speaking of which, you need to be careful. I do not think Robb Stark will be abstaining from his marital duty once you are wed.”

“What do I need to be careful of?” Margaery asked her with a frown.

“Now is not the best time for you to find yourself with child,” she told her sternly.

“What?” Margaery asked, aghast.

“Think about it, this is already your second marriage and you are only sixteen. If Robb Stark falls in battle you will be widowed twice over and no longer a maid. Of course, you have your beauty and the wealth of your family to still draw an appropriate match. A man may well overlook the fact that you are no longer a maid, he will _not_ overlook the fact that you have another man’s child,” she explained.

“You just assume that Robb will die?!” Margaery demanded angrily.

“Of course not, but it is a possibility that we cannot deny,” her grandmother said. “It will not be forever, only until he takes the Capital. Then you will be free to give him all the sons he desires. Until then, however, take this,” she slipped a small bottle from up her sleeve and handed it to Margaery. “One drop each morning when you break your fast.”

“This is poison,” Margaery’s hand shook as she clenched it around the bottle.

“Only if you take too much,” her grandmother retorted, “take it as I instructed and it will do you no lasting harm.”

“This isn’t right,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“It is only for a short time, with these numbers the Lannisters will be finished in no time,” her Grandmother patted her shoulder. “Promise me you will take it, Margaery. Each morning after he beds you. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Margaery swore, her lips trembling.

“Good girl.”

* * *

“You look very handsome,” his mother’s voice pulled Robb’s head to the side, and he smiled at her. She smiled back, though it looked somewhat forced. The tailor stuck another few pins in the velvet doublet before stepping back to appraise him.

“How do you like the fit, your Grace?” he asked him.

Robb lifted his arms, and tilted his torso from side to side slightly before he gave his answer. “Just right, thank you,” he smiled.

“Very good, your Grace,” the tailor nodded. “If I can take the pieces now I will have them properly adjusted.”

“As you wish,” Robb said, slipping carefully out of the doublet, and the fine shirt beneath. The sumptuous material was a far cry from the simple leather doublet and cotton tunics he usually wore. Lady Olenna had insisted, though, and he had thought it best not to argue. He pulled one of his usual tunics over his head as the tailor gathered up the materials.

“I will have them returned to you when they are properly made, your Grace,” the tailor bowed to him.

“Thank you,” Robb inclined his head in return and the tailor turned to leave, bobbing his head to his mother on the way out.

“Very different to what I usually see you in,” his mother said wryly as she moved to take a seat.

“I ought to make some effort for my wedding, don’t you think?” he returned as he poured some wine.

“Of course,” she said lightly, thanking him when he offered her a cup.

“But?” he asked her in an amused tone as he took the seat opposite her.

“I only hope that you will not think to change too much, just to appease the Tyrells,” she said.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a frown.

“Only that they are an ambitious family, far more ambitious than you have ever been,” she warned.

“I am king, or had you forgotten?” Robb asked her, a cold edge to his voice.

“I meant no offence, only that you should be on your guard,” she soothed him.

“With all the Tyrells? Or just the woman who is soon to be my wife?” he asked.

“All of them,” his mother said insistently, her eyes widening.

“I know you are against this marriage,” he sighed.

“It isn’t that -,” his mother began, but he cut her off.

“You would rather I kept my twenty thousand men and married the Frey girl I have no name for,” he said bitterly. “You cannot see that this is better, not just for me, but for the North. With a force such as this we can do almost anything, and we still have the Kingslayer. The Lannisters will not want to meet us in the field, and they cannot afford to threaten us with the lives of Sansa and Arya while we still have the Kingslayer. Why can you not just be happy for me?”

“I would be, Robb,” she told him in a pained voice. “I would be truly happy for you if I could be sure that the Tyrells would just let you walk away from the Iron Throne.”

“No one will make me take it against my will,” Robb said defiantly.

“No,” she agreed sadly, “but that does not mean your will cannot be bent to suit their desires.”

“I think you have said enough now, mother,” he said, fighting hard to keep his tone light.

“As you say,” she bowed her head in compliance.

“So,” he decided on a change of subject. “Has Lady Olenna demanded you see the seamstress yet?”

“Not yet, I think she has quite enough with the demands of the bride’s dress,” his mother said. “I hear the finest Dornish silks have been acquired, along with a thousand pearls. The poor seamstresses will be working their fingers to the bone night and day to get it done in time, without me adding to their burden.”

“I will make sure they are rewarded for their hard work,” Robb assured her.

“You’re very thoughtful,” his mother appraised him for a moment. “I do not want it for you, Robb, as you do not want it for yourself, but you would be a king the people could be proud of.”

“I have enough on my hands trying to make the North proud of me,” he said tiredly.

“They already are, Robb,” she smiled properly at him. “How could they not be? You are your father’s son, after all.”

* * *

Loras sat on the headland, opposite the low rising mound of earth which was the only clue that the man he had loved rested here. He fisted his hand in the dirt, hoping that it would somehow make him feel closer to the man he had lost. It still didn’t feel real, that Renly would never saunter up to him again with that boyish smile on his face. He had always been carefree and happy. Perhaps that was a legacy in itself. Loras closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to banish the feelings of guilt that had been plaguing him ever since Renly had fallen.

It had been he, Loras Tyrell, who had convinced Renly that he would make a better king for the Seven Kingdoms. Renly had been ready to declare his support for Stannis. Without Loras’ interference and persuasion then Stannis might be safely sat on the Iron Throne by now, with Renly in his usual place on the council. Gods, he had let his ambition run away from him, allowed the ambitions of his family to take everything over. He opened his eyes and prayed that they would not make the same mistake again. Prayed that they would not back another ill-fated king.

It had killed him to lose Renly.

It would kill Margaery to lose Robb.

It would kill his entire family if Robb lost this war.

Soft footsteps in the grass pulled him from his despair, and he looked around, his eyes widening when he saw his sister walking almost uncertainly towards him. He smiled to put her at ease, and she returned his smile, though she still had a slightly wary look in her eyes as she hesitated a moment before kneeling down beside him.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked her as she settled. “Shouldn’t you be resting, you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Another one, and so soon. It has been less than two moons since I married Renly, did you know that?”

“How could I forget,” he sighed heavily.

“I should never…” she shook her head and he moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“You did your duty, and tomorrow you will do your duty again,” he said. “Only, this time, you can at least take comfort in the fact that you truly want him. That he truly wants you." 

“Grandmother is already talking about him dying,” Margaery said bitterly and he sighed again.

“Grandmother isn’t known for her tact,” he said.

“That is an understatement,” Margaery snorted and he couldn’t help a short bark of laughter.

“It is all for our own good, though,” he soothed.

“Is it?” she asked, staring out into the distance.

“What has she said?” he coaxed her gently.

“She gave me something a few days ago,” she told him in a dull voice. “Something that will prevent me getting pregnant with Robb’s child. She _claims_ it need only be done until we take the Capital, but I don’t understand… She was constantly in my ear about having a child when I was wed to Renly, why does she not want me to have Robb’s child?”

“I imagine she has her reasons,” Loras said. “But this is not her choice to make, Margaery. She cannot ask this of you. Is this why you cannot sleep?”

“One of the reasons,” she said, leaning her head down against his shoulder.

“What else is there?” he asked.

“I just wish I could see Robb before tomorrow, that’s all,” she said. “If I could see him then I know everything would seem alright again.”

“I think you have your answer,” Loras smiled.

“I didn’t realise I had asked a question,” she lifted her head and half returned his smile.

“No one can stop you having Robb’s child if it is what you want, not even Grandmother,” he said.

“No, perhaps you’re right,” she agreed. “But I am still expected to convince him that he wants to be king of all seven kingdoms.”

“Do you think he would be a bad king?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “No, not at all. I think he would be wonderful, that he would do truly good things for the people.”

“Do you think there is anyone better, now that Renly is gone?” he continued.

“No,” she shook her head again.

“No,” he agreed. “You can live with persuading Robb to take the Iron Throne because you know that he is more than up to ruling. What you cannot live with is grandmother’s insistence that you prevent a child taking root inside you. So agree to her first demand but do not give in to the second, not if you cannot live with it.”

“She won’t be pleased,” Margaery said wryly.

“She doesn’t need to know,” Loras insisted. “And by the time she does know it will be too late, and Robb will more than likely already be sitting the Iron Throne. She could not be angry with you then, especially not when you deliver her a great grandchild to dote upon.”

“Thank you,” she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You always did know how to speak sense to me.”

“Do you think you will be able to sleep now?” he asked.

“Not quite yet,” she answered him. “Not until you come back to camp with me and I know you are safe in your own bed. Renly wouldn’t want you feeling this guilt.”

“I persuaded him to declare himself king, Margaery. None of us would be here if it weren’t for me,” he sighed, and she smiled sympathetically.

“Renly loved that idea,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “He would not have agreed to do it unless he was in total agreement. You are not that persuasive, brother. Renly made his choice, and if he had to make it again I am sure he would make the same one. Come back to camp with me, and have a drink with me before bed.”

“I suppose we do have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he smiled slightly.

“Precisely,” she smiled widely in response. “Now, let’s get back before someone discovers the bride has disappeared the night before her wedding.”


	6. Second Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the wedding chapter!!
> 
> Thanks everyone who has left comments and kudos. I love reading your thoughts and encouragement. Thanks all for the motivation. Hope you enjoy this one!

* * *

Robb did the last fastening on his doublet before smoothing his hands down the front of it and taking a deep breath. He appraised his appearance in the long looking glass and swallowed hard. Lady Olenna had insisted on his attire, but he had to admit that it was handsome indeed. The fine, grey velvet doublet was finely stitched. He had breeches to match, in a thicker, darker velvet. His boots, though the same as he always wore, had been polished until they shone. He did not like to think how quickly the work would be undone when he stepped outside the tent as a shower of rain the day before had made the mud in camp worse.

His future good-father had ordered straw strewn out between Robb’s tent and the war tent – which would serve as a Sept today – and between Margaery’s as well. He was hopeful that that would keep them mostly clean. The Tyrells were insistent on a grand wedding, even if it were not being conducted in a traditional location. They had taken charge of the feast as well, seemingly having the same gift as Renly when it came to procuring the finest sustenance, despite the war. Robb had been happy to let them take charge so far, but once the wedding was over they would find he was not quite so easy to control when it came to tactics.

He took a breath, now was not the time to think of such things. It would do no good to just assume that the Tyrells would disagree with him when it came to planning the assault on the Capital. Today was not about that, for one day he determined to forget the war and just allow himself to be happy. Tomorrow plans could begin, today he would focus all his attention on Margaery. She deserved that more than anything, to have a husband who could devote himself entirely to her. He swallowed hard and picked up his cloak, as black as his boots, and hung it about his shoulders. With one final glance in the mirror he clasped the cloak with two facing silver direwolves, and turned away, leaving the tent.

There were guards lining the walk to the war tent. It seemed there were guards everywhere at the moment. Robb could understand why it was being insisted upon. One king had been lost already, and the men who had sworn themselves to him were determined not to lose another one. Privately, Robb did not think that there would be much a thousand guards could do to protect him if Stannis decided to use magic against him, but he kept quiet. He appreciated the desire of the men of the Reach and the Stormlands to keep him safe. Whether it was for their own gain or not, he appreciated it all the same.

Many of the men offered their congratulations to him as he made his way towards the tent where he would soon be wed. A sudden rush of nerves took him, but he did not have the chance to dwell on them as a large hand clapped him on the back.

“Ready, lad?” the Greatjon asked him.

“Aye, my lord, I’m ready,” Robb replied.

“Suppose it’s easy, when your future queen is such a beauty,” he chuckled.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Robb said, and his chuckle became a booming laugh.

“You’ll be the envy of the kingdoms, lad,” he slapped him on the back again.

Robb allowed a small chuckle at that, but said no more as he entered the tent, the Greatjon on his heels. His other lords were already inside, leave it to the Greatjon to almost be late for the ceremony. He moved to join the other lords as Robb continued up between those gathered, coming to a halt in front of the Septon. The Septon bowed his head in greeting, and Robb mirrored the action before self-consciously straightening his doublet. Gods, he hoped Margaery would not be long.

Almost as he thought that there was a murmuring behind him and he turned to the side so he could look back and see his bride approach. By the Gods. She took his breath away. She looked as though she had come from another world. In his mind he could not understand how a thing of such beauty could exist in a place of war. Her dress swathed her, clinging to every curve of her slight body. Her hair was falling in proper curls about her shoulders, a small circlet adorned with roses set in her hair. As his mother had said, there were a thousand pearls sewn in to the bodice of her dress. She was from another world. How could she possibly be real? How could she possibly be about to become his?

She smiled widely at him as her father led her closer, and he blinked stupidly for a moment before he managed to return her smile. He offered his hand then, and her father placed hers gently in his, giving him a curt nod before moving away. Robb squeezed her hand before the Septon spoke his first words.

“Will you cloak this woman, and bring her under your protection?”

Robb agreed readily, taking the cloak from Ser Loras, who offered him a smile, which he returned. He swept the cloak easily around Margaery’s shoulders, tying the ties loosely. Robb took her hand again, before they both turned in unison to face the Septon, who stepped forward to tie a ribbon around their entwined hands. They were encouraged to say the words then, and he gazed down on her as she gazed up at him. Their eyes held one another’s as they recited words that had been spoken a million times before by so many couples.

The only regret Robb had in that moment was that they were not marrying before the heart tree in the sight of the Old Gods. His mother worshipped the Seven, and he had an understanding of them, but they were not his Gods. They were Margaery’s Gods, though, and he hoped she took comfort from being married in sight of them.

The Septon declared them husband and wife as they concluded their vows and Robb beamed down at his new wife, pulling her closer to him before bending and pressing his lips to hers. Somehow he managed to keep it chaste, reminding himself that many of these lords present had not long witnessed her marriage to Renly. As far as they were concerned this match was a necessary political one. It was best that they never know, nor even suspect, what had passed between them before the death of their former king. Best that was kept a secret between them, a secret that Robb would treasure for the rest of their days together.

* * *

“You are looking incredibly handsome today, husband,” Margaery whispered teasingly to him as they sat in the places on honour on the high table, servants moving up and down the tables and pouring wine.

“I do believe I have only once seen you more beautiful than you are today, wife,” Robb returned.

“And when is that?” she asked him, raising one brow.

“When I had you naked beneath me,” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath making her shudder.

“You are careless,” she said in mock-warning.

“No one is paying any attention to us, not now the food is being brought in,” Robb grinned at her.

“You must always assume someone is listening,” she told him, seriously, now.

“Is that a piece of southern advice?” he asked her, reaching for his goblet of wine.

“The best piece of advice I will ever give you,” she told him, holding his eyes.

“I am sure you will have more for me, after all, we are now bound to one another for the rest of our days,” Robb said.

“Quite,” she agreed. “And I pray that they will be long ones.”

“So do I,” he said, leaning in to her and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Margaery smiled at his action, continuing to watch him as he pulled away and turned his attention to the array of food that was being laid out for their consideration. She turned her own attention to it, passing on the pheasant and boar, but delighting in the look of the salmon that was presented. A serving was soon placed on her plate, and she cut into the soft pink flesh, pushing it about in the cream sauce that was drizzled around it. She was pleased to find that it tasted just as well as it looked, and she turned to Robb to see if he too was enjoying his meal.

“How is it?” she asked him.

“Surprisingly tender,” he replied, and she noted that he had opted for the boar. “And yours?”

“Perfectly cooked,” she replied, and he smiled. “Would you try some?”

“I have never had much of an appetite for fish,” he told her, eyeing her plate suspiciously.

“I don’t suppose you have ever had much of it at Winterfell,” she smiled.

“No, some from Torrhen’s Square on occasion,” Robb told her. “But, I must confess I never had much of a taste for it. It just never tasted quite right.” He seemed to shudder and she laughed lightly at him.

“There was much at Highgarden,” she recognised the wistfulness in her own voice. “It is not so very far from the sea and the River Mander runs right by us.”

“Plenty of fresh fish, then,” Robb observed.

“Yes, as this is,” she placed some on her fork and dangled it out to him. “Go on, just try it. If you don’t like it I swear I will never force fish on you again. When I run our household I shall be sure you are never even offered it at meal times.”

“How can I refuse such a tempting promise,” he smiled widely before leaning forwards and eating the piece of fish that she offered. Margaery watched him as he chewed on it, patiently awaiting his verdict. “As fish goes,” he began. “That one was not so bad.”

“I can have some fish served up at mealtimes then?” she asked him teasingly.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he replied. “So long as you can assure me it will always be fresh.”

“We would have to live by the sea for me to promise such a thing,” she said, carefully watching his reaction. He chuckled slightly and she took heart from it.

“Yes,” he agreed with her. “Yes, I suppose we would.”

He turned back to his food then and Margaery decided to leave it for now. She had tested the waters, so to speak, and he had not stiffened nor seemed angry at her comment about them living by the sea. He had not flat-out told her that they would never live by the sea because they would never live anywhere other than Winterfell. She took a sip of wine as she considered this. If her grandmother had heard the exchange she would be urging Margaery to push him further. Margaery knew him better, though. Robb could not be pushed into this, he had to be gently persuaded. So gently, in fact, that he would believe that the entire thing was his own idea.

Margaery believed she could do it, but she would need time. She could only hope her grandmother would understand this and give her the time she needed. Margaery looked towards Robb again, admiring him unashamedly as he laughed at something one of his northern lords had leaned over and said to him. He really was most handsome, even more so since he seemed to have no awareness of it. Margaery knew that many a woman would find no complaint in having him as a husband. They would desire him even more so if they knew what he was like between the sheets.

She felt herself blush then, at the sinful memory. Her eyes widened in the next moment as it occurred to her. She reached her hand over to gently clasp around Robb’s arm and he extricated himself from conversation with her father and leaned into her.

“Is everything alright?” he asked her concernedly.

“The maids will be most inquisitive when they come and change our sheets tomorrow,” she whispered.

“Ah,” he said, understanding clear on his face.

“There will be questions,” Margaery told him insistently, and he nodded.

“There will not, I will make sure of it, I promise you,” Robb assured her in hushed tones, and she nodded, squeezing his arm a little more tightly for a moment.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he leant in and kissed her lips for the briefest of moments, leaving them tingling when he pulled away to resume his conversation with her father. She watched him for a moment, a slight smile on her face as she noted that her father looked completely won over. He had been sceptical about marrying Margaery to Robb, but he had bowed down and done what her grandmother had told him, as he usually did. Margaery was so glad that he had, from the moment Loras had mentioned it she had had her heart set on being Robb’s wife.

Now she was, and part of her could still not quite believe it was all real.

* * *

“Lady Stark?”

Catelyn looked up and instantly had to bring a smile to her face as she found herself gazing at her new good-daughter. “My queen,” she hoped her voice came out kindly. “I have yet to see you to offer you my congratulations.”

“We have had precious little time to get to know one another,” Margaery took the seat next to her, and Catelyn swallowed her unease. “Everything has all happened so quickly, at times I can scarcely believe that any of this is real. I am sorry that we have not yet had a chance to speak properly with one another.”

“I should have made more of an effort after the betrothal was announced, but it appeared you had so many people around you already,” Catelyn said. “I know how overwhelming it can be, planning for a wedding, I did not want to add to your burden.”

“You could never be a burden, you are family now, Lady Stark,” Margaery said, perfect smile set on her pretty face.

“Thank you,” she endeavoured to return the smile, all the while wondering if the girl was being genuine or not.

“Still, we will no doubt be moving on soon, perhaps you and I could ride together sometimes?” Margaery suggested, her eyes wide and seemingly unassuming.

“I would like that,” Catelyn said, perhaps she should give her the benefit of the doubt. She was, after all, family now as she had pointed out. Catelyn may not be happy that her son had broken his promise to the Freys, but that could not all be laid at Margaery’s door. Yes, she was sure the girl had made herself very tempting to Robb, but he had agreed to it, and so had his lords. They were all just as dismissive as one another over what Walder Frey might do to them in vengeance. Perhaps Catelyn should just let it go, trust that they knew what they were doing…

“There you are,” a smiling Robb had come to join them now. She watched as Margaery looked up at him, a smile on her own face. While she could not quite decide whether Margaery was scheming or not, she could not deny that the look she bestowed on her son was one of genuine adoration. That relaxed her slightly, though she knew she would still remain on edge until she was assured that Robb would not be fighting to be king of all seven kingdoms.

“Mother,” Robb smiled at her next, “do you mind if I steal my wife away? The dancing is about to begin.”

“By all means,” Catelyn smiled, and he inclined his head to her before holding his hand out to Margaery. His wife took his hand gladly and he led her to where a circle of dancers were beginning to congregate. Music struck up as the king and his new queen joined the throng, and a lively dance began. Catelyn watched with a small smile, her dancing days had long been over, Ned had never been keen. She could count on one hand the number of times they had shared a dance with one another. That had been one of the reasons she had been so determined that _all_ of her children learned to dance well.

The boys, and Arya, had always whined about having to go to their dancing lessons, but Catelyn had stood firm. She imagined Robb at least was thanking her for it now, he would never have to disappoint his wife when she desired a turn dancing. Catelyn watched them dance, proud that her son did not miss a step. They looked happy, she could admit that. She only hoped that the happiness would last. It was easy to forget, in this moment, that they were still in the midst of a war camp, and that the war was still to be won.

* * *

Robb led Margaery across the grass towards his tent, his hand firmly clasped with hers as he tried to find the least muddy path. Her dress was so beautiful that he did not want it to be ruined for her. Might be that she wanted to keep it, perhaps pass it on to their own daughter. He smiled at the thought of that as they reached the tent and he pulled the flap aside and gestured Margaery to enter before him. He followed her in, watched her as she glanced around at her surroundings. It seemed strange, given how close they had become, that she had never been inside his tent before.

“I hope you will be comfortable here,” Robb told her as he crossed to pour some wine. “I understand if you wish to keep your own tent, for all your belongings. But…well,” he cleared his throat. “I would, uhm…”

“Are you trying to tell me that you want me to stay here with you, always?” she turned to ask him, an amused smile playing about her lips.

“Yes,” he said sheepishly, and her smile widened.

“I would be delighted,” she said, moving to the bed and reclining back against the pillows.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmured as she made herself comfortable. She giggled at that and he approached slowly, holding out a cup of wine to her. Margaery took it with thanks and took a sip. He drank down some of his own before placing it on the bedside table. He unfasted his cloak from about his neck and draped it over a chair, before moving his hands to undo his doublet. It joined the cloak over the chair and he sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots.

“Oh!” Margaery’s exclamation drew his attention and he turned his eyes towards the tent entrance where she was looking with wide eyes.

He grinned on seeing Grey Wind prowling in, his snout sniffing up at the air. Grey Wind had been absent more often than not recently. Camp life seemed to bore him, especially since they had been in the same place for near two weeks now. They would leave in the morning; that ought to make his wolf a little less restless.

“Margaery, meet Grey Wind,” he said in an amused tone.

“A pleasure to put a face to a name,” she returned with a smile, looking slightly nervous as his wolf prowled closer to the bed.

“He won’t hurt you,” Robb assured her.

Margaery edged herself up then, moving to the edge of the bed. She held her hand out, and Robb was impressed to see that her hand was completely steady. Grey Wind padded closer, sniffing at her fingertips. For a moment Robb thought he might turn tail and walk away but then he rubbed his head firmly against Margaery’s hand. She laughed at his movement, and Grey Wind sat on his haunches, an unmistakable grin on his face as Margaery scratched behind his ears.

“I think he likes you,” he commented.

“I certainly hope so,” she replied, stroking him with both hands now.

“Well, when you have quite finished, there is another wolf here who would rather like your attention,” Robb said slyly after another few minutes.

Margaery giggled at that, turning to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes on him were enough to get him hard, and he sighed deeply, sinking back into the pillows. Margaery shifted away from Grey Wind, who looked mournful. Robb gave him a pointed look and he huffed, moving to the other side of the tent and curling up on the ground. With that Robb turned his attention back to his new bride, watching her intently as she pulled on the ribbons holding her dress together. She rose up from the bed as it came loose, letting it fall slowly down her body, leaving her in just a light underskirt.

He couldn’t help but stare at her breasts as she carefully gathered up her dress and lay it on the chair with Robb’s cloak and doublet. She slipped her hands down to the waist of the underskirt next and Robb swallowed hard, his mouth now inexplicably dry. Margaery smiled at him, walking ever closer to the bed, only dropping her underskirt when she was stood right next to it.

Now she was within touching distance and Robb could not help reaching out and trailing his fingers down her stomach. Her head tilted back and she let out a long sigh of pleasure as he allowed his fingers to dip down between her legs. He was gratified to feel her already ready for him, if anything it made him even harder in his breeches. She came closer, getting up onto the bed now and coming to straddle his hips. A wicked little smile adorned her lips as she rocked herself against him, another gasp leaving her mouth.

Her hands came to his chest, and he groaned as she began loosening his tunic, allowing her fingers to wisp over his bare skin. He slipped his hand between her legs and began to slowly tease at her, and he was gratified when a throaty moan came from her. At the sound he pulled himself up to face her, wanting her lips on his. He almost dragged her mouth to his, kissing her deeply. She responded fiercely, furiously tugging up his tunic, breaking their kiss to pull it over his head before crashing her lips back to his.

Robb grabbed her hips, turning her over so she was laying beneath him and breaking their kiss again in the process. Her hands went to the lacings of his breeches, and he had to stifle a groan as she whispered her fingertips up and down his length. He fisted his hands in her hair and kissed her again, pressing himself closer to her as she shoved his breeches down his hips. She drew her legs up around his waist as they continued to kiss, and it was ever so easy for him to slip down into her irresistible warmth.

She moaned into his mouth as he began to thrust slowly, her back arching up causing her chest to rub against his own. Every move she made seemed to make him desire her more and he couldn’t help but rock more quickly into her. She seemed to appreciate his increase in speed, another moan leaving her mouth as her hands snatched at his chest and shoulders. He kissed down from her mouth, kissing and licking and nibbling his way down along her neck and shoulders. Gasps and moans came from her as the continued to rock gloriously together.

“Robb,” she panted out as he groaned against her shoulder. “Touch me, please,” she gasped.

For a moment he wasn’t sure what she meant, but then her hand found his, guiding it down between their meshed bodies. He slipped his fingers down between them and found that little bud that had made her gasp at his touch earlier. It made her gasp again, her breath seemingly catching in her throat as a strangled little moan came from her. He kept rocking his hips, burying himself deeply inside her on every thrust as he continued to tease at that little bud.

Her body jumped beneath him, her legs shaking against his waist as he continued on. Her breaths came as little cries as her body writhed beneath him, her back arching up as he felt her tightening further around him. By the Gods, he could not hold on much longer. He groaned in almost frustration, feeling himself shaking as she shuddered around him, one final cry of relief leaving her as her body went limp beneath him. It was seconds before he gasped and groaned out his own release, collapsing down against her and pressing a kiss to her neck.

“I had no idea it would get even better,” Margaery told him breathlessly after a few minutes.

He grinned at that, pleased to have satisfied her. A moment later he lifted his head, pushing his weight slightly off her as he moved to meet her eyes. She smiled up at him, and he moved his hand to brush some stray locks of hair back from her forehead. Gods she was beautiful. He did not think he would ever tire of looking at her. Her perfect eyes. Perfect smile…

“What are you thinking?” she whispered, moving her own hand to stroke down his cheek.

“That I will never tire of looking at you,” he replied softly.

“Only looking at me?” she asked him slyly.

“No,” he shook his head, grinning at her. “I will never tire of speaking with you, kissing you,” he pressed his lips to hers for a moment. “Touching you,” he added, trailing his hand down the side of her body to land on her hip. “Making love to you,” he finished, pressing his lips to hers again and squeezing her hip lightly as she shifted her legs up around him again.

* * *

Margaery breathed out in satisfaction as she draped herself over Robb’s chest, pressing a kiss to his slick skin before she lifted her head up to observe him. His curls were damp and there was a sheen of sweat across his forehead. He shot a smile at her before reaching out for the wine he had left on the bedside table. She watched as he drained it down before putting his empty cup back on the table and grinned at her again.

“Can I ask you something?” Margaery said, swirling her fingers around on his chest.

“Of course you can,” Robb responded happily to her, and she shifted on his chest to better observe his reaction to her next words.

“Do you think your mother likes me?” she asked, and she saw a fleeting look of awkwardness cross his features. That told her all she needed to know. She sighed.

“It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Robb said, though he didn’t sound convinced of his own words. “It’s just, well, she made the deal with the Freys. She is angry with me for backing out of it. I understand why, I have broken a promise, and in turn I have made her break a promise. Not that I regret it,” he smiled at her, stroking his hand through her hair. “I would have broken a thousand promises for you, I just think my mother is still uneasy about it all. It’s not you, it’s me she’s annoyed with.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked him with a raised brow. “Are you sure she doesn’t just see me as a scheming little temptress who dug her claws into you as soon as her husband was murdered?” she dug her nails into his chest to emphasise her point and he hissed slightly.

“No, I am sure she doesn’t think that,” he said unconvincingly.

“She never came to see me once in the build up to the wedding,” Margaery persisted. “Don’t you think that strange? Don’t you think she would have wanted to at least get to know the woman who will be the mother of her grandchildren?”

“She will get to know you, and she will adore you,” Robb soothed her, and she lay her head back down against his chest, thinking hard.

“I hope so,” she told him. “I really do. All I want is to be a good wife to you, to be a good friend to all those in your family when you are all together again.”

“Well, you are already a good wife to me,” he told her adoringly, stroking his hand through her hair. “My mother will come around in time, she will not be able to resist knowing you better – especially when you bear her first grandchild.”

“Yes,” she agreed, thinking uneasily about the bottle her grandmother had given her, and the instruction that came with it.

“I know we are both young, and there is plenty of time for children,” Robb continued. “But, it would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” she agreed again, and his hand stopped in her hair.

“Are you still worrying about my mother?” he asked.

“Yes,” she lied. “I can’t seem to help it.”

“Margaery, she will come to love you as part of the family,” he assured. “You just need to give her some time. I would love for you to get on, especially when she has guided me for so long. I don’t really know what I would do without her.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said snuggling down against him.

He wrapped his arms around her in the next moment, and after several minutes she heard his breathing even out and knew he had fallen asleep. She bit on her lip, thinking over what he had just said about his mother guiding him. That would not do, she would never be able to convince him that fighting for the Iron Throne was a good idea with his mother so firmly set against it. His mother would sew doubt in his mind at every turn, and Margaery could not allow it.

No, if she were to do this, the she would have make sure Robb sent Lady Stark back to Winterfell. Somehow.


	7. Planting Seeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know it's been nearly a year and I can't believe how fast that time has gone. I hope there are still some of you out there who remember this story and haven't given up on an update!
> 
> As far as excuses go I think becoming a mum is a good one, baby is doing so well and she's absolutely amazing. I've very recently started writing again while she naps, now my brain doesn't feel like total mush anymore.
> 
> Anyway, I can't promise you regular updates but I can promise you that's I'll do my best. I will finish this story, it just might take a while! I'm going to do my best to update my other stories as well. I have posted a chapter of Wolf Pact already, but I am a little stuck on United We Stand so it may take me a little longer to get that chapter out. It's coming though, and hopefully the wait won't be as long for another one.
> 
> All I can do is my best, thanks for you patience. Hope you enjoy the chapter, apologies for any mistakes - it's been so long since I've written I'm not sure what my editing skills are like at the moment!
> 
> Thanks to all who've been patiently waiting, you're all awesome! :)

 

* * *

Margaery sat at the table, watching Robb carefully as he un-stoppered the small bottle and dropped a few drops of the rabbit’s blood onto the sheets before he threw the covers back over them. He replaced the cork in the bottle then before slipping it into his doublet and smiling in her direction. She returned the gesture, and Robb moved towards her, coming to take the seat opposite her.

“Breakfast will be here soon,” he told her. “I called for it while you were bathing.”

“Wonderful,” she smiled widely at him. “How are you getting along with Luthor?”

Robb had taken on one of her cousins as his new squire since the Freys had marched back to the Riverlands after he broke their marriage pact. For the most part Robb had been unconcerned about losing four thousand of his men, but he had been rather out of sorts that he had lost his squire. Margaery was aware that Olyvar had become more of a friend to him than anything else. She knew that he likely would have knighted Olyvar at the end of the war should the Freys have remained with him. There had been no reasoning with them, though. Even her grandmother had tried and failed.

“Well enough,” Robb told her lightly.

“I know he is not Olyvar,” she told him sympathetically. “But he is young and eager to please you. I’m sure in time you will get used to him.”

“I’m sure,” he agreed with her.

“I hope the servants will soon come with my things,” Margaery said. “It would not do for me to wear my wedding dress again.”

“I will ask Luthor to remind them when he arrives with breakfast,” Robb told him, looking towards the entrance to the tent as someone called out for him. “Which appears to be now,” he smiled. “Come!”

The flap was pulled aside in the next moment and Margaery smiled as her cousin led in two servants carrying trays of food while he himself came forward with a flagon and set it down on the table. “Watered wine, your Graces?” he asked politely, and both she and Robb agreed. Luthor moved to the side table then to bring two cups to the table, before he filled them both.

“Thank you,” Robb said, the trays both being laid down, and a plate set before each of them.

“Is there anything else you need, your Graces?” Luthor asked.

“If you could remind the servants that the queen’s belongings need to be brought here,” Robb told him.

“Yes, your Grace,” Luthor bowed deeply before he took his leave of them.

Margaery waited until she was sure he was gone before looking at Robb and raising her brows. “He is eager,” she commented, and he chuckled. “That you cannot deny.”

“I suppose not,” he agreed with her before helping himself to some bacon, blood sausage and a large slab of bread.

Margaery chose a selection of fruits for herself, before sipping down some of the wine. When she replaced her cup on the table she saw Robb eyeing her strangely. “What?” she asked him suspiciously, and his eyes dipped towards her chest. She let her own eyes follow his gaze and saw that her robe had loosened slightly. “Really, husband?” she asked. “Even after this morning?”

“Can I help it if you are truly irresistible?” he responded.

“You ought to eat your food before it gets cold,” she mock scolded him. “And then you must be away to the lords. I expect they will be wanting to know when you are planning on marching, and where you will be marching to.”

“I expect they will,” Robb agreed. “I intend for us to march tomorrow, towards Bronzegate. From there we will wait until we hear news of Stannis. Renly was intent to wait and allow him and the Lannisters to decimate one another before we made our move. I may have been more impatient than he was, but I believe he was right. We will await the victor, and after that we will move against them before they can lick their wounds. Then I will have my sisters back.”

“Then you will have King’s Landing,” Margaery said, meeting his eyes.

“Yes, I suppose I will, for a time. I cannot just leave the rest of the kingdoms in chaos – that would be beyond selfish of me,” he said.

“So, you intend to choose someone as a ruler?” she asked carefully.

“Perhaps, or perhaps a council of sorts,” he said.

“It is an idea to consider, certainly,” she said carefully. “But I imagine the people would feel more secure if they had a king. I know I would, if I were in their position. I would not want us to head into the winter with such uncertainty.”

Robb said nothing, he merely nodded his head as he had a mouthful of his breakfast. She would say no more now. Small steps. That is what she had promised herself. Robb was a clever man, doubtless he would realise it himself soon – that he was the man who was meant to sit the Iron Throne.

“I should go,” he said, throwing the rest of his wine down his neck as he finished up his breakfast. “I cannot keep them all waiting, I suppose, as much as I would rather stay here with you.” He stood up, moving round the table before bending down and pressing a firm kiss to the top of her head. “Doubtless they will be along with your things soon.”

“Then I shall make sure it is all put away before you return,” Margaery told him and he smiled at her before he moved towards the entrance of the tent. She returned his smile, turning back to her own breakfast as he disappeared from view. Gods, she hated this. They had been married for less than a day and already she was feeling awful for deceiving him.

She had to remind herself that she was doing this for his own good. For her own sake and the sake of both their families. Her grandmother was right, though it pained her to admit it, they would both be far safer if they ruled all the kingdoms as opposed to just one of them. She supposed the Riverlands would remain with Robb, and she also supposed that the Vale and Dorne would stay out of it. With the Lannisters and Stannis destroyed perhaps they would be safe at Winterfell. She sighed heavily. Gods, all this thinking was making her head hurt.

“My queen?” thank the Gods, a distraction.

“Come,” she called.

A train of servants trouped into the tent at her word, each carrying a large trunk. She had packed them all the night before her wedding as she had been unable to sleep. Most merely contained clothes or jewellery, but there were a few trinkets from Highgarden amongst them and some of her favourite books. Not that she imagined there would be much time for reading now. She had a husband to keep happy, and she also had to make sure she was always aware of his plans. He was a wonderful tactician on the battlefield – but she was yet to see if he fared as well politically. If he did not then she would have to enlighten him as to how things were done here in the south.

“Thank you,” Margaery said as all the trunks were placed down on the ground.

“Would you like us to unpack them, my queen?” one of the serving girls asked.

“No, thank you,” she replied. “But if you would ask my handmaiden, Tessa, to attend on me in an hour I would be most grateful.”

“Of course, my queen,” she returned.

They all curtseyed then before making their way from her presence. She turned her attention to the trunks when she was left alone, intending to pack all of her things away before Tessa arrived to help her dress and fix her hair. They may be in the middle of a war camp but she intended to make Robb proud by always looking every inch the perfect queen.

She sifted through one of the trunks and found a silver-blue dress. It was about the closest to Stark colours that she could find, and was especially well cut. As soon as she could she would have to employ a seamstress and have new dresses made. She had to show Robb, in every way she possibly could, that she was completely on his side in everything. Carefully she set the dress to one side before also putting a pair of blue shoes with it. The weather had been dry since the wedding, so she was hopefully the ground would have firmed up enough for her to risk something other than boots.

Margaery tightened her robe around her waist a little more before turning attention back to the trunks. Putting her clothing away took no time at all, there was barely anything in the wardrobe, just a few cloaks of Robb’s. She assumed his clothing was in the dresser, and she confirmed it whilst looking for a spare drawer for her small clothes. There were two free, though she only needed one. Now all that was left for her to go through were her trinkets and books.

She had a jewellery box which she placed carefully on top of the dresser before she started pulling the books out of the trunk. There were not many, but she needed a safe place to put them before all the furniture was packed up on the back of the wagons ready to depart. She opened the door of the side table and found it was occupied by spare parchment and ink. A sigh left her. Surely it would make more sense for these things to be kept in the door of Robb’s desk in the corner.

Straightening up she moved to the door of the desk, opening it. She sighed again, aside from a few letters it was empty. Gods, men. Was it impossible to be efficient? She moved back to the side table and removed the parchment and ink, moving it to the desk before returning to her trunk and beginning to stack her books into the newly acquired space. She was sure that Robb would not mind her moving things, it was not as though she had disturbed any of his personal belongings. It was just some writing materials. He would be fine about it, she was sure of that.

She closed the door of the side table when she had finished, looking in the trunk and seeing just a silk shawl left in the bottom. Gods, she hoped she would still be able to wear silks, no matter where she and Robb ended up living. She knew winter was coming but…she fingered the shawl, but she supposed she was just not ready to let go of summer just yet. Margaery only remembered one winter, and it had been incredibly mild in Highgarden, just a few light showers of snow and far too much rain.

She sighed, pulling out the shawl and hearing a thud against the wood at the bottom of her trunk. Laying the shawl aside she peered down, her stomach clenching when she saw the little bottle that her grandmother had given her. Somehow she had almost forgotten about that. She pulled it out, turning it over in her hand, her mind racing over it once more. Her grandmother could not possibly be right about everything, could she? A child would be a _good_ thing for her and Robb. Besides, it would not be long before Stannis moved against the Capital, and once he was done Robb would make his own move.

No, her grandmother was wrong about this. Besides, she may not fall pregnant right away, sometimes it took women months – years, even. It was best she didn’t take the foul poison. Her grandmother may have told her it was safe, but how could she possibly know that? Margaery had heard whispers of moon tea amongst the servants, and she knew that if it was made wrong then it could ruin a woman’s chance of ever having a child. She could not risk that – especially not now that she was married to a man she genuinely cared for. Not to mention the fact that Robb was a king, a king that would need an heir to secure the destiny of his family.

Gods.

She closed her eyes and closed her hand around the bottle. Best she never thought of this again.

“My queen?” she jumped on hearing Tessa’s voice outside the tent. Hurriedly she tossed the bottle to the back of the cupboard and slammed the door shut as she called out for Tessa to come in. Standing up and turning to greet her handmaiden as she made her appearance.

“Shall we get you dressed, my queen?” Tessa asked her with a smile.

“Yes,” Margaery returned the smile. “And I have already picked out a dress, so it should be far less time consuming than usual.”

* * *

Olenna had her most comfortable chair brought outside her tent so she could sit and observe. It was one of her favourite pastimes, observing. She had always enjoyed it, ever since she was a child. Before she even understood how much you could learn about a person from merely observing them. Sometimes you could tell more from merely watching someone than you could from speaking with them for hours on end. People were often guarded in speech, which was a good discipline to learn early in her opinion, but were rarely as aware of their movements.

The look on someone’s face said much. For example, as Olenna eased herself back against the cushioned back of her chair, she could tell that one of the guards stood outside the war tent had had far too much ale the night before. She could also tell that his partner on duty was somewhere else entirely. The Gods help the lords in there should anyone try and storm there meeting. With the incompetence of those outside a well organised bunch could kill at least three of them. She sighed. Still, that might not be such a bad thing in some of their cases.

She was suspicious of the meeting, that was one of the reasons she had demanded her seat be brought out here. A small band of the Storm Lords were in there, one of her serving girls had informed her. Unfortunately, she had not been able to inform her of who exactly they were. Olenna would have to make sure that that was rectified. Anyone in her service needed to know exactly who everyone was, even those who were considered unimportant. What people often underestimated was the fact that _everyone_ had something of significance – even if they seemed thoroughly insignificant. Especially if they were thoroughly insignificant, in some cases.

Still, this series of events had been thoroughly unpredicted, and so she could not blame the girls in her service for not knowing everyone, yet. It would be remedied – and quickly. Just as soon as she had completed her observation. Of course, she had had a man join them. Tarly had insisted. The man was big and brash but he was also a wonderful leader of men, and completely loyal to House Tyrell. Olenna doubted that if treachery was indeed afoot, that the Storm Lords would divulge such information in front of him, but it would at least delay any such plans.

Somehow she doubted treachery though. Men who were up to no good rarely discussed things so openly. Which was foolish, really. Such a bold move would make them seem far less conspicuous. Olenna often made her more dubious plans completely publically. That way no one could ever suspect her of doing anything underhand. Not that anything she ever did was that underhand. All she did was for the good of her family, and the good of the realm. There could have been no other reason for her to push for the alliance with Robb Stark.

He was still just a boy, really, but he had a good head on young shoulders and she would be foolish to deny that she was impressed with his military exploits. If only Mace had ever shown her the same potential, it would have saved her having to be here now. She was getting too old for this, being dragged around from camp to camp in preparation for war. What she wanted was to return to the comfort of Highgarden. Which she would, in time, just as soon as Margaery succeeded in her endeavour.

She had every faith in Margaery. The girl was like her, even better, perhaps, not that she would ever suggest such a thing to her. She and Robb together were a smart match, even if he did not bring much wealth or a vast army. The Tyrells had provided that, and he provided the sense and the planning to win the Iron Throne. More than that, to keep it. If the pair of them played things right then they could not lose – they could be the beginning of a dynasty even greater than the Targaryens. Olenna would be content if she lived long enough to see the beginning of it.

As she thought of her granddaughter, she saw her emerge from Stark’s tent. He himself had already left, she had seen him several minutes ago setting off on a tour of the encampment with the Greatjon and Karstark. Two fine generals, the pair of them. Brash and northern, of course, but what more could she expect? They would get the job done, and once the Capital was taken, they, and the other loyal lords of the North would ensure Stark’s homeland was well run in his absence. She imagined the king would want to visit Winterfell regularly, though she knew that Margaery would be able to curb that when she began birthing heirs. It was dangerous to travel with young children, it would not be difficult to convince a cautious Stark of that.

She watched keenly as Margaery made her way towards the war tent. Raising a brow she wondered if her granddaughter would enter. She paused at the entrance and snapped the day dreaming guard to her attention. Both then clumsily bowed, and Olenna rolled her eyes as she imagined the stuttering fools falling over themselves to gain some approval from the new queen. Margaery spoke to them both for a short time before she turned away, her long-time handmaiden at her side. Perhaps Olenna would borrow her? Tessa was a sharp girl, though she played dim-witted and meek very well, Margaery had taught her well. The handmaiden would no doubt be able to teach her own girls what was what within the camp.

Yes, she would speak to Margaery about that later. Right now she was happy to continue her observations. Margaery spoke to Tessa for a long moment before her handmaiden bobbed an elegant little curtsey before walking away. She did not rush, looking completely unfazed. The girl was good. Olenna would bet her fortune that she was away on some important fishing expedition for Margaery, though. She hoped it would prove fruitful. Margaery, meanwhile, walked calmly towards the tent of her good-mother, head held high.

Olenna knew that walk. That was the walk of a woman who was on a very important mission. She could guess what it was, and she was proud of her granddaughter for picking up the threat so quickly. Olenna was determined to let Margaery work things out for herself, and only interfere should she absolutely need to. It seemed she had made the right decision. Margaery paused outside Lady Stark’s tent, waiting there a moment before she was presumably called to come in. Olenna couldn’t help but lean forward slightly in her chair, a smirk playing about her lips. What she would not give to overhear that conversation…

* * *

“I was not expecting you, the day after your wedding,” Catelyn said carefully as Margaery walked into her tent. There was a disturbing air of confidence about the young woman. Had Catelyn been in her shoes she imagined she would have been more apprehensive, more nervous about spending time with her new good-mother. Still, they were not the same person, and everyone had their own ways of dealing with things.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Margaery seemed to be observing her surroundings. For some reason the scrutiny made Catelyn feel nervous. Surely it ought to be the other way around? “Robb has walked out to check on the periphery defences, and I was rather bored,” Margaery continued. “I thought you might be too, should I pour us some wine?”

“That would be lovely,” Catelyn said, trying not to feel put out that she was being offered wine in her own tent. “I must say,” she sat herself up a little straighter, determined to be polite. “That is a beautiful dress you are wearing – and the colour is most unusual.”

“I can only praise the dyers and the seamstress at Highgarden,” Margaery returned. “But thank you, you are most kind to notice.”

Catelyn smiled, noting the way Margaery swung her hips as she walked closer, holding out a cup of wine. She thanked her before sipping on it gingerly. Margaery sat herself down without permission. Catelyn felt irked, but she could hardly scold the girl. She was now above her in rank, and, more importantly, was kin. She supposed she ought to be glad that the girl was so comfortable in her presence, but she did not. It just unnerved her.

“You must miss Highgarden,” Catelyn offered when she felt the silence had grown too long.

“Oh, yes,” Margaery agreed. “Though my place is here now, and I would not be away from Robb for all the world. You must know how it feels though, I expect you miss Winterfell very much.”

“I do,” Catelyn agreed, nodding stiffly.

“Oh,” Margaery placed her free hand over her heart. “How tactless of me to mention it. I should have known better. Of course, it is not just your home you must miss, your sons are still there, are they not? Forgive me, my lady, I did not stop to think.”

“You were being kind,” Catelyn forced herself to smile. “Besides, if the Gods are good then Robb will soon end this war and I will have my girls back, and when that day comes we will _all_ return to Winterfell as a family. I do hope that you will make yourself at home there, it will be quite different to Highgarden; I am sure.”

“I’m certain you’re right,” Margaery smiled sweetly. “But home for me will be wherever Robb is. You should not feel such obligation though, my lady. I hate to think of you miserable here when I don’t doubt you would be much happier at Winterfell with your youngest boys.”

“I could not leave Robb while he still needs me,” Catelyn said firmly, determined to keep her temper.

“Of course you couldn’t,” Margaery’s sympathetic simpering made her want to throw the girl from her tent. It was unkind of her, not the kind of thoughts she should be having about her good-daughter. Gods, she had never imagined mistrusting Robb’s wife the way she did, but she could not help it. There was just something about her that had Catelyn constantly on edge. “I was only saying,” her good-daughter continued, “that I am sure that should you wish to go home, that he would understand.”

“Of course he would,” Catelyn almost snapped. “He is my son.”

“Yes, and he is kind and compassionate, and clever,” Margaery smiled. “And I must thank you for that, my lady. I am a firm believer that children are the model of their parents – their mother’s, especially, I think.”

“Or grandmothers, in some cases,” Catelyn said darkly, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

“Of course,” Margaery laughed. It was impossible to tell if it was genuine or not. “You’re quite right, my lady, of course.”

Did nothing phase this girl? By the Gods it was far worse than Catelyn had feared. It would have been one thing for her to be openly scheming, but she was far cleverer than that. The Gods help Robb, what in the seven hells had he got himself into by marrying this woman?

* * *

Robb returned to his tent to find a vision awaiting him. Margaery turned from pouring wine at his entrance, taking his breath away. Her dress was cut almost to her navel, and he swallowed hard as his mouth dried in an instant. Margaery’s lip curled up at one side, appraising him for a moment before she turned back to the side table and poured another cup of wine. She picked up both cups and came towards him, and he could not help but stare at the hypnotic way she swayed her hips as she walked. By the Gods, now he understood exactly what a dangerous woman was.

“Is something wrong, husband?” she asked him teasingly as she handed him his cup.

“Only your dress,” he replied. “I am not sure how I will ever concentrate on anything in your presence.”

“How was your day?” she asked him, perching herself down on a chair and looking up at him expectantly.

“Uneventful,” he said after taking a sip of wine, taking the chair opposite her.

“I heard you were wandering camp with some of your lords,” she said.

“Do you have spies trailing me, wife?” he asked her with a raised brow. She pursed her lips in response.

“I merely take an interest in our campaign,” she told him reproachfully. “Were you quite satisfied with how the men have themselves organised along the periphery?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, eyeing her for a moment. “Do you really wish to speak of such trivial matters?”

“There is nothing trivial about it,” she told him, her eyes huge. “Every little detail is important if we are to win this war. Minor problems can develop into catastrophic problems if they go unchecked. You do well to keep an eye on those seemingly mundane things. As popular as Renly was with the men, he never troubled himself with anything he deemed trivial. You’re different, far more aware.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“I suppose you learned such care and attention from your mother and father,” she said, her eyes still fixed on his.

“Yes, my father especially,” he agreed with her. “He was always full of wisdom. The most important thing he ever taught me is that it is alright to be afraid. He worried about everyone, he said that was the greatest challenge of being a lord – knowing that so many people were in his charge. He said it was like having thousands of children – and you never stop worrying about your children.”

“I suppose you and I will find that out soon enough, if the Gods are good,” she smiled at him, and he returned it. “Your father sounds like a most remarkable man, I wish I could have met him, though I will be content just to hear your stories of him – whenever you wish to share them with me.”

“Thank you,” Robb told her meaningfully. “That would be wonderful. I still cannot believe he is gone sometimes. I do wish I could speak about him more, but until I found you there was only my mother, and speaking about him only seems to upset her.”

“It must be so terrible for her,” Margaery’s eyes were shining with tears. “I cannot imagine the pain she is in. I cannot bear the thought of losing you and we have only known one another for a few weeks – so many years and so many children together must make her loss near unbearable. It is no wonder she seemed so out of sorts when I visited her earlier.”

“Why? What was wrong with her earlier?” Robb asked, instantly concerned.

“Oh, we were just speaking, sharing a drink,” she shrugged one shoulder. “Talk turned to home, she was very kind to me; making sure I was not missing Highgarden too much. I assured her I was not, and to be polite I asked her the same of Winterfell. I did not mean to upset her, though she hid it well I could tell I should not have said anything. I do believe she is missing home very much, your brothers as well, of course. Being parted from most of her children must be heart-breaking, but she is so strong, she did her best to hide it from me. She only seemed concerned with my own comfort.”

“That sounds just like my mother,” he smiled slightly. “By the Gods, I had no idea she was missing home so terribly.”

“I don’t doubt that she has not said anything because she does not want to worry you,” Margaery reached forward and placed one of her hands on his knee. “Oh, I should not have said anything, I am sure she would be just furious with me if she knew I had caused you to worry. You won’t say anything, Robb, will you? I don’t want her to mistrust me, imagining that I return to you with all the details of our conversations, I so want us to get along.”

“Relax,” he placed his own hand over hers and rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand in a soothing manner. “I will not say a thing to her if that’s what you want. I cannot forget what you have said though. Do you think perhaps I should speak with her? Perhaps let her know that she should not feel like she needs to stay here with me?”

“If you think that’s what is best,” she returned. “Though, I would miss her should she choose to leave, I feel as though we are only just getting to know one another.”

“If you rather she stayed…” Robb began.

“No,” Margaery shook his head, her nails pinching into his knee slightly. “I mean, if she _wanted_ to, then of course. But, if her heart is at Winterfell then I would not be so selfish as to keep her here when she does not want to be. You should speak with her, Robb. Let her know that it’s alright with you if she wishes to go home. We will all miss her, but this is about what is best for your mother. Don’t you think she has suffered enough?”

“Yes, you’re right, of course you’re right,” Robb smiled at her, before leaning forwards and brushing his lips against hers. “I will speak with her on the ride tomorrow. By the Gods, what did I do to deserve such a clever and intuitive wife?”

 


End file.
